


Takedown

by carl_barker (aww_yeah)



Series: Takedown [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Porn With Plot, Shameless Self Insertion, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-01 04:56:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 31,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1040594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aww_yeah/pseuds/carl_barker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set between episodes Everybody Hates Hitler and Trial and Error of Season 8, the boys run into an old 'friend' of Dean's on a job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [confectionerybrick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/confectionerybrick/gifts).



Dean peered round the corner, eyes sweeping the unlit room ahead for any signs of the vamps, though he wasn’t hopeful. Sam was searching the other end of the warehouse, and Cas…well who ever knew what Cas was doing? He slid around the door frame, machete half raised. He’d gone two steps into the room before his legs disappeared underneath him and he hit the ground hard, weapon flying from his hand.

“Dean fucking Winchester.” A familiar female voice laughed from the shadows. He growled and sat up, scowling. She stepped forward, rising from the crouch she’d kicked him from and his fears were confirmed. “You should always check your corners, dear.” She held out a hand to help him up. He ignored it, standing on his own. His hip throbbed where he’d landed on it.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, glancing back at the door to check no one had seen him get his ass handed to him and bending to pick up his machete.

“I’m here for the nest, obviously. I thought you were one of them. I’d ask you the same, but I actually use my brain.” She cocked an eyebrow and rested a hand on her hip. She wore a dark t-shirt and cargo pants, with a holster around her waist and right thigh, a ten inch serrated knife sitting along her leg, a handgun on her left hip. Her brown shoulder-length curls bounced as she laughed at Dean’s eye-rolling.

“Always with the hostility.” He muttered.

“Aww, Dean, you know I-“ She stopped short as Castiel appeared behind her, immediately falling into a crouch at the soft sound of wings and spinning, blade already in hand. He caught her arm and reached for her throat.

“Cas! Let her go!” Dean started forward, but Cas had already released her. 

“You’re not a vampire.” Cas stated, brows furrowing for a second. She rubbed her wrist and glanced accusingly at Dean.

“Nice greeting. Who’s this? Your manners coach?” She looked back to Castiel, who stood a few inches taller than her, and gave him an appraising look.

“You think _that’s_ a bad greeting?!” He started, then thought better of it. He didn’t want to admit to being floored by her in front of Castiel. “Whatever. Emma, Castiel. Cas, Emma.”

She was still squinting at his face, and Cas looked at Dean for help. He never was good around women, Dean noted, smirking. He’d have more trouble than most with his one. Dean decided to let him stew for his amusement. “Castiel..? Is this the guy you mentioned last time?”

“I am an angel of the lord.” Cas muttered. She laughed for a few seconds, then looked at Dean. When she saw he wasn’t laughing too, turned back to Cas, eyebrows raised, the smile still playing on her lips.

“An angel, huh? Finally got to meet one of you, then.” She leaned forward, eyes narrowing as she looked at him more closely. Cas leaned back, uncomfortable with the proximity. “You don’t look like an angel.” She complained. “Where’s the wings? Your halo? I didn’t expect angels to have stubble. You’re cute though, I’ll give you that.” She grinned, slipping her knife back into the holster on her thigh, and offered a hand to Castiel, who looked at it for a second before gingerly shaking it, glancing at Dean as he did so. “Nice to meet you, Castiel. Apart from the grabbing thing.”

“I thought you were attacking Dean, so-“

“I was.” She said at the same time as Dean grumbled “She was.” She flashed him another smile as Cas’ face lapsed again into confusion. Dean decided to give him some respite.

“Don’t worry, Cas. I know her, and she’s definitely a monster, but not our kind. Why don’t you go get Sam, he’ll probably be thrilled at this little reunion.” Cas blinked out, and to Dean’s immense pleasure Emma jumped a little at his sudden disappearance. 

“So I assume that’s an angel thing?” She said, looking around the room as if she might somehow see Cas skulking away in a shadow. 

“Cas can do all kinds of cool crap. Why are you here alone?”

“Who said I’m alone? I mean, I don’t have a pet angel or anything, but I do okay.” Dean waited, eyebrows raised, for the actual answer. Her smile melted away, and she sighed. “Dan died over a year ago. Trouble with hellhounds, we weren’t prepared for it. I don’t want to talk about it.” Her throat moved and she rubbed at her ribs, eyes to the ground. Dean had never seen her look any kind of vulnerable and it disarmed him.

“I’m sorry...” He stepped closer and reached for her shoulder but she stepped deftly away.

“Watch the hands, Winchester.” She smiled again, back to her normal obnoxious self in a heartbeat. “I don’t need pity, for a start. And we can’t be having a repeat of last time.” She moved closer, pushing her body against his side, and clasped both hands over his shoulder, pulling him down so she could whisper in his ear. “I still remember the freckle on your-“

Sam cleared his throat loudly from the doorway and Dean immediately stepped back, feigning a coughing fit, a blush rising up his neck. Sam raised his eyebrows and smirked as his brother swaggered closer, away from the tall brown-skinned girl laughing with her head thrown back in the middle of the room. 

“Hey Sam!” she said, when she’d composed herself, skipping over him and pulling him into a hug. He squeezed her back. Dean noted how extremely different her greeting for his brother was and gave a little shake of his head to dispel his annoyance.

“Hey, you! You’re hunting the vamps too? Where are they?” He let her go and she stepped back, gaze sweeping back to Dean, who was now leaning against a dusty old workbench near the door, pretending to be very interested in cleaning his nails with the tip of his machete. 

“Ah, yes, I remember you got all of the brains in the family.” Dean lifted his gaze and scowled at her. She barked out another laugh and folded her arms. “It looks like they’ve moved on. Your big brother managed to scare the fuck out of me, though. I almost gutted him, but I’d know the sound of that ass hitting the floor anywhere.” She grinned up at Sam as she saw Dean shoot her a ‘fuck you’ look in the corner of her eye. Sam gave a guffaw and Dean flipped him the bird, eyes back on his nails. “I’ve checked the whole place, and nothing. Wasn’t expecting to run into other hunters.” She picked her backpack up off the ground and hoisted it over a shoulder.

“Well, it’s good to see you. Where’s Dan?” Her face fell again and Sam immediately looked uncomfortable and began apologising. Dean stood and clapped him on the shoulder as he walked out of the room.

“Time to go, Sammy. Coming, Emma?” Emma smiled at Sam by way of accepting his stumbling apology, and he sighed, annoyed with himself, and followed his brother out of the room, Emma on his heels. Cas was waiting in the corridor, and he moved closer to Dean as they walked.

“Who is that woman?” He asked in a low voice, glancing back at her. She winked at him and he snapped his head back forward quickly.

“An old… friend.” Dean murmured. “We met years back on a case, and I guess we worked jobs together a couple of times since.”

“Why was she attacking you? Is she dangerous? Are you sure you don’t need me to-“

“No, Cas.” Dean laughed. “I definitely don’t need you to kill her. She’s dangerous, though, that’s for sure.” His hip gave a twinge in agreement. “She thought I was a vamp, is all.”

“But you smell nothing like a vampire.” Cas protested. Dean rolled his eyes and glanced over his shoulder. Emma was talking animatedly with Sam. She mimed a fall, arms flailing and eyes wide; Sam was nearly doubled over with laughter. He turned back, frowning, heat rising in his face again. He definitely did not fall like that.

They went to get food at a place Emma swore had the best burgers in town. Dean agreed (silently, of course), though he was more glad to get a drink. The place was all round tables and semi-circle booths. They chose one of the latter in a dark corner. He left Emma and Sam to chat away over their salads and settled himself back, legs stretched out under the table.

Cas still looked pretty awkward, Dean noted, his blue eyes roaming the room and occasionally settling hesitantly on Emma. He quickly looked away every time she glanced at him, and every time she saw him shift uneasily in his seat, she’d grin. This girl must get off on making people uncomfortable or something, Dean thought. He remembered the first time they’d met – completely by chance, staying in the same motel, working another, bigger vampire job - six years ago or near enough that it didn’t matter. He had taken a while to get used to her brash, mocking sense of humour as well, and at first just thought she had taken an immediate dislike to him, considering she’d been practically nice to Sam. Turned out it was more of pulling the pigtails of the girl you like in kindergarten type deal.

The very first time they were alone in a room together she’d sauntered over to him with those big strides of hers and whispered in his ear some of the filthiest shit he’d ever heard. He'd immediately gotten hard and she'd just grinned wickedly and moved away before he had chance to respond. Sam had come back, and he thought he'd done a pretty good job hiding his boner. Well, at least until she went to the ladies’ room and Sam had given him the look he reserved for when he caught Dean watching porn or the times he'd walked in while he was jacking it in the shower. Sam had said that he knew instantly she’d had the hots for Dean, but he still thought that was just Sam being a smartass.

She'd fucked with him all the rest of that night, rubbing her tits against his arm as she passed him, bending over unnecessarily, leaning just a little too close to look at what he was doing, polishing her knife slowly with a smirk playing on her lips. She'd still been hunting with Daniel then, her cousin who shared the same long limbs, brown skin and curly dark hair, but despite being nearly the same height as Sam, Dan had a knack for stealth, and had been scouting the area for vamps while they waited for his word.

For some reason, he remembered that night as if it’d been yesterday. Dan had called to say there were at least a dozen bloodsucking sons of bitches in the nest and they'd gone in hard, all four of them, and he'd seen her fight properly for the first time. She was savage, stronger than she looked and as focused a killer as he'd ever seen. He'd been knocked to the ground in the melee and she'd ganked one with Dean’s machete as it was about to rip his throat out. She'd grinned at him and told him he was welcome before pulling him to his feet, handing back the blade and turning to help her cousin. They'd gone back to the motel they'd been staying in and still high from the fight, she'd pulled him into her room and they'd fucked and drank and fucked some more. He'd never seen a girl come so hard and as many times as she did when he'd-

"Dean!" Sam repeated, clicking his fingers in his brother's face and bringing him back to the present with a jolt. Emma was smirking in a way that suggested she knew exactly what he'd been thinking about, so he averted his eyes and cleared his throat. 

"What?" He asked his brother, rearranging his face into a look of mild annoyance. 

"We're leaving. You coming?"

Emma stood, still smirking, and stalked out of the bar. Sam watched Dean watch her ass as she walked away. 

"How about me and Cas give you a minute." He said, raising his eyebrows pointedly. Dean practically scrabbled out of the booth and jogged after her, leaving Cas bewildered, still in his seat. 

"I don't understand." He told Sam as Dean threw a tip down on the bar and strong armed his way through the door.

"Neither do I." Sam shook his head and clapped Cas on the shoulder. "They were, ah... together once. Well, a few times. A couple years back now." 

"But she threw him down and told him his ass was fat..." Castiel looked after them. He was sure that when humans were romantically involved they were at least pleasant with one another. "I don't understand." He repeated quietly. Sam just shrugged and took another swallow of his nearly warm beer.

She was standing admiring the car, but she whirled around in surprise as the bar door banged open loudly and raised her eyebrows as Dean appeared, on his own. "Where are the others?" She asked as he approached.

"Giving us a second."

"A second for what?" He'd almost reached her. She inhaled a little of his scent, and thought about how she'd told herself she wouldn't do this again even as she curled her fingers round his neck, let him press her back against the Impala and crash his lips to hers. His hand went to her hip and she remembered herself, pushing gently at his chest and breaking the kiss. He looked at her, eyebrows furrowed slightly, questioning. 

"I don't think this is a..." She trailed off, her gaze sliding over his face and resting on his lips. Fuck it. She stood on her toes and kissed him again, harder this time. Both his hands were on her hips now. He pushed her back once more and she almost moaned into his mouth as his hands slid a few inches up her t-shirt and his thumbs brushed against her skin. That was too much, and she did pull back then, turning her hip so he had to move away. He dropped his hands to his sides and was about to ask what was up, but by then Sam and Cas were on their way over, so she just looked at him in a way she hoped was apologetic and hopped into the back before he could say anything. 

Sam looked at him questioningly as he reached the car, but Dean just shook his head minutely and got into the driver’s seat. He glanced at Emma in the rearview, but she was staring pointedly out of the window and chewing her lower lip. Sam saw too, but decided not to push it. He'd had no idea what was going on between them any of the other times, he didn't know why he expected to be any more enlightened now.


	2. Chapter 2

The drive back to Emma's motel was subdued. She'd agreed to stay with them at the bunker at Sam's invitation. They had way more rooms than they needed anyway, and he figured having her around couldn’t hurt. She was enthusiastic about seeing the Men of Letters’ collection and had even offered to help Sam with filing while they waited for word on where the vamps had relocated. He glanced at her in the side mirror and wondered why she was still hunting, alone, now Dan was gone. She'd seemed her usual bouncy, grinning self up until they left the bar, but now he wasn't so sure. He looked over at Dean, who was glaring out at the dark highway, lips pursed. He hoped they'd work whatever it was out. He preferred all the obvious sex references and unsurreptitious groping to sullen silence. 

After a few more minutes of silence, Dean flicked on the radio and settled back into his seat, visibly relaxing as Zepplin blasted from the speakers. Eventually he was finger-patting the steering wheel in time with the beat and Sam saw Emma smile to herself in the back. Cas still looked unsure how to conduct himself around this strange new woman, and kept stealing looks at her sideways. Sam chuckled to himself and closed his eyes. At least he was back. He’d returned a few days after the Samandriel incident, and although he and Dean had been suspicious of him since, things had seemed fairly normal – or as normal as they got with Cas. They’d agreed not to say anything about it for a while, at least until they were sure something was really going on with him. 

Fifteen minutes later they pulled up outside the beat-up looking motel. "Hey guys, I'm kinda beat tonight. Don't really wanna pack everything up right away. You mind if I just drive over tomorrow, say midday?" She said as she opened the door and stepped out, stretching and yawning before leaning down to Sam's open window. 

Dean just scowled straight ahead. Sam nodded. "Sure. You remember the directions?" 

"You know me, don't have to tell me twice." She tapped her temple with a finger and glanced back at Dean. "See you, then." He inclined his head by way of reply and she rolled her eyes. "And you, angel face. Look forward to seeing you again." She tipped Cas a wink and stood straight. He mumbled something unintelligible and Sam laughed. She smiled and waved as they sped off and made her way back to her room, the smile sliding from her face as soon as they were back on the road. 

Emma closed the door behind her and stood with her back to it for a moment, eyes closed. "Fucking stupid idiot woman." She muttered aloud to herself. She remembered the way he'd looked at her when she pushed him away and gritted her teeth. She'd never pushed him away before, not even playfully, so it must have stung. She did want him. Holy fuck did she, shivering at the memory of the way his hands had felt on her. It was just... They'd not seen each other in a while. He didn't know what had happened. She cursed under her breath and wondered why she'd agreed to stay with them. It would only get worse if they were together all the time; she’d learnt that on the last job they’d worked together. 

She sighed and moved away from the door, dropping her bag and undoing the clasps on her holster. She stripped out of her clothes and padded naked to the bathroom, averting her eyes from her reflection in the mirror before turning on the shower. She picked at her nails while she waited for the water to heat up, trying not to think about Dean and his lips and thinking of nothing but. She grabbed a hair tie and pulled her hair back a little too aggressively into a bun and stepped into the shower, thinking pointedly about the six pack of beer she had waiting in the fridge when she got out.

Dean's mood hadn't entirely lifted by the time they got back to the bunker. He had no clue why she'd pushed him away like that. She'd always wanted him before, he'd never felt more like a sex god than the times they'd spent together. So why the change? He wondered if it was Dan. But that had been over a year ago, and she was tough. Hell, the woman was hunting on her own. He was still puzzling through it in the shower, just standing under the flow and letting the water run off the end of his nose for almost half an hour. He eventually roused himself from his thoughts, scrubbed himself until his skin tingled and stepped out, groping for a towel, half blind as water ran down his face. 

"Here." Cas handed him a towel, and he grabbed it and immediately covered his junk, blinking water out of his eyes in surprise. 

"Dammit, Cas! You can't just come into the bathroom when people are showering! We talked about this, Jeez." He wrapped the towel securely round his waist and gave the angel a look as he moved past him into the hall. 

Cas ignored the chastisement. "Sam says you know this Emma from before. That you were together."

"And you had to come eye my balls to talk to me about this?"

"I just need to understand."

"You and me both, Cas." Dean shook his head and shrugged. "There's nothing to understand. We just did what people do. That's all."

"Do you mean coitus?" 

He pulled a face. "That makes it sound disgusting, but yeah, I mean coitus. Can we be _not_ talking about this now?"

"Do you intend to have a… relationship with her?" Cas asked hesitantly. Dean threw his head back and barked a short laugh. 

"Emma's not the kinda girl you 'have a relationship' with, Cas. But honestly, I don't know. I thought, maybe... but something's up with her."

"Well, she is definitely human. And she smells healthy enough." Cas raised his eyebrows approvingly.

"Oh wow, that is just- that is a whole new level of creepy. Please stop. In fact just go, I need to get dressed."

"But I've already seen your p-"

"OUT, CAS!" The angel disappeared immediately, and Dean scanned the room to check he wasn't still around before searching for some clean clothes and pulling them on.

He walked back out into the main room and made a beeline for the drinks cabinet. Sam was already sitting poring over an old journal, his feet up on the chair next to him, but he looked up at the clink of glasses. Dean poured two and set one down next to his brother before huffing down into his own seat, the scowl back on his face. Sam put the book face down on the table to keep his page, and plucked Dean's glass out of his hand.

"Uh, what are you doing?" Dean made to pick up Sam's glass instead, but he slid it out of his reach. "Would you fucking cut it out, dude?"

"Go see her." Sam said, downing the drink in his hand and grimacing at the taste. 

"No." Dean made another grab for the drink on the table, but Sam blocked him again. Dean gritted his teeth and glared at his brother. 

"So you're gonna sit here and get drunk. On your own. Instead of getting back with the girl you _still_ say is in your top five lays." Sam rolled his eyes.

"Top three. And not on my own. I got you, Sammy!" He tried his most charming grin in the hopes of disarming his brother enough to grab the other drink, but Sam already had the other glass in his hand. He raised it to his lips and never breaking eye contact, tipped it back and swallowed. "You are such a douchebag." 

"Just go see her already." 

Dean stood up. "For the record, I'm doing it for this guy." He pointed at his crotch and cocked an eyebrow. "And ‘cause she'll let me drink the fuckin' liquor." He crossed the room, grabbing the bottle of bourbon and shoved his keys into his jacket. He flipped the bird to Sam, and jogged up the stairs.

"Use a condom!" Sam called after him, a second before the door slammed shut. He grinned to himself and picked the journal back up.

Emma was sitting cross-legged on her bed, propped up against the pillows with a bag of popcorn and a beer between her legs, watching The Avengers for the third time. The motel had a shitty movie choice; that had been the only thing she’d wanted to watch apart from the porn, and she didn’t want to go down that route tonight.

Someone rapped on the door and she ignored it, hoping they’d go away. It was probably just the manager again, and she knew she was paid up until tomorrow night. The door knocked again, more loudly this time, and she sighed and set aside the bottle and popcorn.

"Coming, give me a sec’!" She called, grabbing her gun from the bedside table and tucking it in the back of her shorts on her way to the door. She popped the lock and opened it to Dean, holding a half empty bottle of liquor and a six pack of beer. "Jesus Christ." She muttered in equal parts surprise and annoyance. She contemplated shutting the door on him for a second.

"Yeah, you really need to work on your hello." He said, eyebrows raised as he moved past her into the room. 

She shut and locked the door and turned back to face him, reaching behind her and pulling out the gun. He held his hands up in mock surrender. She grimaced. “Hilarious. I don’t so much mind the alcohol delivery service, but, uh, why are you here? I was actually gonna come tomorrow, you know.” She placed the pistol back on the nightstand and sat back down near the end of the bed, arms folded.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He asked, not meaning to sound so harsh. He reined it in a little. "You’re blowing all kinds of hot and cold tonight, lady."

She smiled, a little sadly. “Yeah, sorry about that.” 

"Glasses?" She nodded towards the minibar in answer and he fetched some. He handed her one and she let him pour her drink.

"I just… wasn’t expecting to see you. Or Sam. Or your cute little bodyguard." She grinned as he scowled while pouring his own drink. He stoppered the bottle and set it down on the table with her gun. He sat down next to her on the bed and looked at her, waiting. "You took me by surprise." She said, lamely, taking a sip of her drink and looking awkwardly at the TV. One arm was still wrapped tightly around herself.

"What happened to you?" He asked gently. She blinked at him innocently. "Seriously. Tell me." He inclined his head to where her fingers were rubbing unconsciously across her ribs again. She’d been doing it all night, every time he’d looked at her for longer than a few seconds. She clenched her fist and spread both arms out in front of her, annoyed that she’d been so obvious. 

"Hellhounds happened to me, Dean." She said, taking another sip of her drink. She contemplated her glass for a second before tipping it back again and draining it. "They were tearing Daniel apart in front of me and I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t even see them! I’ve seen people die, but never like that." Her throat worked and she looked at the floor. Dean finished his own drink and reached for the bottle, refilling their glasses while he waited for her to go on. He knew enough about her to know that she’d talk more if he said nothing. "They were, I don’t know - it was like they were called off of him or something, but before they went one of them got hold of me and next thing I knew, my cousin was dead next to me and I was lying in a pool of our blood with a couple of EMTs standing over me. Someone had heard the fighting, I guess, and called 911. It wasn’t even a hellhound case." She said, anger tinting her voice now. “It was meant to be just demons, you know? We weren’t prepared…” She touched her side once more and met his eyes. He reached forward to touch her ribs and she flinched away.

"Does it still hurt?" He asked, concerned.

"Not really." She murmured into her glass as she finished her second one. "But no one’s seen it since they stitched me up. It was _bad_ , Dean."

"Let me see." He insisted, reached for her again. She moved away a second time. "I’m sure I’ve seen worse. Just let me see."

She gave a hard, humourless laugh, but she didn’t move when he reached for her t-shirt this time. He slid off the bed to crouch in front of her, arms resting on her bare legs. He lifted the hem a few inches and saw it already. A jagged set of unbroken, parallel scars ran from just above her hip and up her stomach. He glanced at her face, but she was looking away, worrying her lower lip. He lifted the t-shirt up and over her head completely and hissed quietly through his teeth, dropping it on the bed beside her. 

At her hips, the scars he’d seen first were faded until they were only noticeable by the slightly raised bumps they’d left, but the two outer scars were a deep purple further up on her stomach, and where they’d cut deepest, the two middle were a stark white-yellow against the smooth brown of her skin. They ran across her ribs, where they were whitest, and into her bra. He saw that they came to a stop a couple of inches from her collarbone. They’d ripped her open, alright - to the bone, it looked like. She hadn’t exaggerated when she said it was bad – he’d had way more than enough experience with hellhounds himself, and knew how vicious they were. How she’d survived being ripped open like this he couldn’t imagine. He glanced back up at her face, and she was looking down at him now, but he wasn’t sure what the look in her eyes was. Defiance, fear, or anxiety? Maybe all three at once. He knew he needed to see all of it before she’d feel any kind of comfortable with him.

"Can I-" He started, but she’d already reached back and unclasped her bra. She pulled her arms out of it and let him pull it gently away from her body. "Ah, fuck…" He breathed quietly as he saw what had happened to her right breast, running his fingers gently down the claw marks. Whoever had stitched her up had done the best job they could, but the scars were deep enough that they’d left it with an almost ridged appearance, and most of her nipple had been torn away, leaving a small brown nub in a twisted pink and white field of scar tissue.

"Dean, please stop looking…" She whispered, willing herself not to cry, her hand balled in the t-shirt at her side, desperate to cover up again. He looked up at her again for a second and bent his head back down to kiss the scars on her ribs. He kissed up, along the scars, up the underside of her breast. He kissed her ruined nipple and he kissed the scars high on her chest. 

"They’re just scars." He murmured, moving up her neck and kissing her just underneath the ear. She shivered.

"But these-"

He moved back to look into her eyes. “These show that a giant dog from hell damn near gutted you. By all rights, you should be dead, and even that son of a bitch couldn’t keep you down.”

"But-" He kissed her on the lips, cutting her off. She tensed, and almost resisted, but then she was kissing him back, letting him push her down until she was lying beneath him.

She told herself she needed this as she pulled his jacket off his shoulders and he shrugged it off onto the floor. She slid her hands up the back of his t-shirt, feeling the muscles of his back move as his lips found her throat again. He found the sweet spot in the crook of her neck and she did moan this time, arching into him. He grinned against her skin and nipped at it lightly with his teeth, eliciting a whimper that made his cock stiffen.

She pulled at his t-shirt impatiently and he let her pull it over his head. While he was off-balance she used his weight against him and rolled them over so she was straddling his lap. She grinned down at him for a moment, tracing the tattoo on his chest with a finger. His hands slid slowly up her sides, one thumb brushing gently across a scar. Just a distraction, that’s all this was.

She leant down to kiss him again, rolling her hips into his so that she could feel his cock through his jeans. She reached down between them and ran her fingers across the bulge in the denim. He groaned, pushing against her hand as she moved to kiss down the edge of his jaw, flicking her tongue out to run along the rim of his ear, biting gently on it and making him hiss.

She began kissing down his neck and onto his chest, her fingers working on the buttons of his jeans. She took a nipple between her teeth and flicked it with the end of her tongue. His cock throbbed almost painfully as she did it. She’d got the buttons undone now, though, and was working his jeans down as she slid off the bed and kissed down his stomach. She got them past his knees and smirked as he kicked his shoes and socks off hastily, her fingers playing with the waistband of his boxers.

She knelt between his legs, scooting his clothes across the floor so she could get closer. He was propped up on his elbows, watching her. She lifted the waistband and his cock twitched, sliding up from where it had been held by the elastic. She watched it for a second, eyes wide and dark, before leaning forward and running her tongue up from base to tip, taking the head into her mouth and sucking gently.

"Fuck." He groaned as she wriggled her tongue on the sensitive spot underneath, before slowly, too slowly, he thought, taking more until he hit the back of her throat. She flicked her gaze to his and held it while she bobbed her head, wet mouth sliding over him, tongue always moving. He wanted to buck his hips, and almost did, but she sucked harder suddenly, and he forgot everything but the way her mouth felt around his cock. She pulled away for a second, wiping a drop of pre-come away with her thumb as it rolled down the shaft, her hand closing around him and working up and down in the slickness her saliva had left. 

She ran her tongue over one of his balls and he growled deep in his throat, letting himself drop onto his back. She took it in her mouth and sucked gently, her tongue still running over the skin. She licked back up his cock and replaced her hand with her mouth. He moaned again, and she sped up, fingers working gently on his balls as well now. She felt him tighten under her hands and knew he was about to come. She’d been turned on as it was, but the way he was panting now made her clit throb, so she reached between her legs with her free hand and rubbed it roughly through her shorts. She moaned around his cock, and that was too much - he exploded in her mouth, cursing as she continued to suck gently on him while she swallowed.

She let him pop out of her mouth wetly, and wiped her lips with her arm. He scrubbed a hand down his face and sat up, grinning lopsidedly.

"You are fucking amazing at that." He said. She crawled back up onto the bed, lay on her back and looked at him.

"You have said that literally every time, you know." She grinned.

"Well, it’s true." He said, rolling onto his side and running his hand up her inner thigh. Her stomach tightened in anticipation, but his hand slid further up and he cupped her left breast gently. He leaned over and kissed her again, tasting himself as her tongue pushed against his. He moved down to take her nipple in his mouth and she gave a little moan. He nibbled it gently.

"Fuck. Don’t do that, I need to come." She groaned as he did it again. He sucked gently on it while his hand slid from her breast down between her legs. She let them fall open, and he rubbed her through her shorts. She moaned quietly, her hips bucking into his hand with need.

"You’re so wet I can feel it through these." He chuckled, kneeling up to pull her shorts off. She didn’t trust herself to make any noise that wasn’t pathetic so she just looked at him pleadingly. She hadn’t shaved, though he knew that her anti-possession tattoo was there. He ran his fingers through the little mound of hair and her eyelids fluttered closed.

"Dean, if you don’t fucking touch me soon I am literally going to explode." She said through her teeth, voice wavering slightly. He grinned and leaned over her until their lips were almost touching. Her eyes opened and she glared up at him. His fingers slid down and found her clit and she whimpered again. He rubbed slowly and her breath caught a little so he sped up and she moaned, but he cut it off with a kiss. He pulled away after a second and brought his fingers to her mouth. She sucked them greedily and he moved his hand back, this time sliding a finger slowly inside her. She shuddered and gripped the sheets tightly in both fists. He added a second finger and her breath started coming in shorter bursts. He moved them in and out slowly and one hand found his shoulder, her short nails digging into his skin. He kissed her hard and pulled his fingers up against her g-spot. She shuddered harder this time, her grip tightening on his shoulder and he did it again, curling his fingers inside her, still excruciatingly slowly. She groaned against his lips.

"Please." She managed. He smirked and repeated the action, faster this time. Her orgasm started immediately, spreading through her whole body. She was panting out short sharp moans, and he moved his lips to her neck while he worked his fingers inside her. She bucked and cursed and he stopped moving for a moment to let her cool down. She lay panting, still convulsing gently around his fingers. When she stopped twitching, he started again, harder now. She cried out loudly, her body arching as she came a second time, harder and for longer. He was hard again now, and he pulled his fingers out of her to look for a condom. Her chest was still heaving when he found it. He slid it on and dragged her over to the edge of the bed.

"Ready?" He asked. She nodded and grinned. She lifted her legs and he pulled them over one shoulder, before slowly sliding a few inches into her. She’d forgotten how amazing he felt, but also how big. She was biting her lip, and put a hand on his hip to stop him.

"Hold on." She said, repositioning herself slightly. "Okay." He thrust into her and she was nearly there again. He rolled his hips a little, and she came again, this time with a string of curses so inventive he couldn’t help but grin. He didn’t stop to let her come down this time, though, just pushed slightly deeper into her with every thrust until he was all the way in. He lowered them back down to the bed, and unhooked one of her legs from his shoulder. He pushed it back to her chest and fucked her hard like that until she came so forcefully she pushed him out and squirted over them both. 

She giggled, out of breath and sweaty, and pushed him into a sitting position. She lowered herself onto his cock and squeezed around him tightly. He groaned and grabbed her hips. She fisted a hand in his hair and pulled his head back to kiss his neck while she rocked her hips into his. 

She looked up for a second, over his shoulder, and nearly choked. She'd left the curtains open a little to let in a breeze after her shower, but now there was a man standing a few feet from the window. Not a man, she reminded herself, but Castiel, Dean's angel. Their eyes met for a second and he disappeared. She almost told Dean but his grip on her hips tightened and he thrust up into her, making her moan out. 

She slammed back into the moment and bucked her hips faster, gripping hard to his shoulders for leverage. He groaned and lifted her off him. She stood, breathing hard in front of him. He stood as well, and pulled her into a rough kiss, twisting his hand in her thick hair. Her hand slid between them and she gripped his cock and squeezed. He growled into her mouth and pulled away from the kiss to look at her. She grinned. "We like it rough, remember?"

"I remember." He replied, leaning forward and pulling at her lower lip with his teeth. She smirked when he let go. That _fucking_ smirk. He turned her around and pushed her down so that her elbows were on the bed, her legs straight, ass in the air. He took a second to enjoy the view, one hand on her hip. He gripped his cock with the other hand and pushed it against her, sliding down to her clit and back up, almost but not quite in again. He did it again and she whimpered, so this time when he came back up, he slid two inches inside. She bit hard on her lip, and tried not to make a sound. He pulled out again and she almost swore at him, but then he slammed into her, as deep as possible, and she gasped, eyelids fluttering shut. He gripped both her hips now, and rested one foot on the bed beside her, pulling her back and pushing in at the same time, slowly at first, building speed until he felt her come again, then slowing a little into a hard, but fairly slow rhythm. 

The first time he'd fucked her like this, she'd had tears running down her face after, and he noticed and been horrified, thinking he'd hurt her. She'd laughed, wiped what was left of her mascara away and kissed him hard, before grinning and explaining that he hadn't hurt her (at least not in any way she hadn't enjoyed), and that it was purely down to the intensity of coming so hard so many times in quick succession. Once he'd let that sink in, he'd grinned back and vowed to do it again the next time they fucked. 

He knew, once her moans gave way to little more than shuddering gasps, that he'd fulfilled his promise. She was still resting on her elbows, and even though it felt like her entire body was shattering and throbbing and it was hard to think of anything but sensation, she knew her legs were about to give way and half fell to her knees on the bed. He went with her, hardly breaking rhythm. He pushed her down again, until her chest was on the bed, and sped up again. 

She couldn't breathe for a few seconds, tears spurted from her eyes again as her body shook with the force of another orgasm. She managed to gasp in some air and twisted her fingers weakly in the bundled sheets on the bed, revelling in the feeling of him slamming deep into her, forgetting their voyeuristic angel friend, forgetting her scars, her own name. After a few more thrusts, he grunted a little and pushed hard into her. She pushed back until it hurt, knowing he was coming, but her head was too fuzzy to respond, and she didn’t think she could move any more. He pulled out and she let herself drop flat to the bed, finally breathing again, eyes still watering. Fuck he was good.

She heard him pad across the room into the bathroom and back again. She opened one eye to look up at him. He gazed down at her, smirking, and she slid her arms out from underneath her body and pushed herself onto her side. She thought about telling him how great it was, but from the shit-eating grin on his face she knew he already knew. She couldn't think of anything to say. "Fuck." She managed, in a hoarse half-whisper.

He laughed and sat back on the bed. "Did I seriously fuck the sass out of you? That's gotta be a record."

"Pretty much." She replied, groping for the sheet over the side of the bed where it had fallen at some point. She snagged it and pulled it over herself, wrapping it tightly around her body as she wiggled up until she was almost at the head of the bed. He snatched it from her and she fought him weakly for a few seconds before giving up and letting him pull her to his chest. She lay on her side, wrapped one leg over his, and almost immediately fell asleep listening to the steady thump of his heart.

He reached over to flick off the light and looked down at her in the darkness for a while, listening to her breathe. He wondered if this was really as good an idea as it had seemed a few hours ago, running his fingers up and down the soft skin of her back. He was still half-sitting, so he shuffled down gently until his head was on the pillow, trying not to wake her. She murmured sleepily against his chest in protest of the movement; he smiled involuntarily and immediately knew it wasn't.


	3. Chapter 3

Emma woke up before him, extricated herself gently from underneath his arm, and had showered, dressed and done her make up before he so much as stirred. She'd been leaning against the door of the bathroom, watching him for a few minutes, when he looked over at her blearily. 

"Please say you haven't been standing there watching me sleep." He groaned, voice thick with sleep.

"Only the last three hours or so." She grinned. "To be fair, your butt's hanging out. It would be rude not to look." 

Now that she mentioned it, he did notice his ass was feeling chilly. Somehow he'd kicked the sheets off himself from the waist down. That, or she'd pulled it into that position. It wouldn't be unheard of. "Pervert." He said, rolling onto his back and sitting up, rubbing both hands over his face. "Time is it?"

"Ten thirty. You looked so cute, I didn't have it in me to wake you." She laughed and stood straight. "Get your tight little ass in gear, Winchester. I'm sure Sam's wondering where you are."

"Sam knows I’m here." He said, starting to get dressed. Ten thirty? He hadn't slept through an entire night since...well, since before purgatory. Another bad sign.

She walked around the room, bundling up her clothes and shoving them unceremoniously into a duffel bag. She set it down on the bed and went to fetch her toiletries, wondering if she should say anything about Castiel's appearance to Dean. She wasn't sure how he'd react, she hadn't seen enough of them together to gauge their relationship yet, apart from that the angel was clearly fiercely protective of Dean. Her wrist still felt tender from where he’d grabbed her. Maybe last night he was simply checking she wasn't beating Dean up again. She decided not to say anything to Dean, but to talk to the angel herself when she got to the bunker. 

When she stepped back into the room, she caught him standing, peering nosily into her bag. She cleared her throat and he moved away from it, with the grace to at least look guilty. 

"If you're looking for dildos you're going to be very disappointed. I haven't packed them yet." 

"I wasn't- wait a minute, dildos?" He grinned sleazily.

She laughed. "A girl's gotta eat, and it's not like guys regularly turn up at my door with alcohol and condoms."

“Sure they don’t.” He winked.

She laughed. "Honestly, though, there are no dildos. Jeez, I haven't even been with anyone since, uh... I don’t know. Well before Dan died." Truthfully, though she couldn’t bring herself to tell him, the last person she’d slept with had been Dean, three years before.

"That sucks." He said, picking up her gun from the nightstand and handing it to her. 

"I guess it does." She tucked it into the back of her jeans. "What about you? Still a womaniser?"

He chuckled awkwardly. "Not exactly."

She didn't miss the frown that crossed his face as he turned away from her. She didn't know what that meant, but she knew she wouldn't get it from him, so she changed the subject. "How long have you guys had the angel with you?"

"Pretty much four years. He was around last couple of times I saw you, only he, you know, wasn’t. To say he comes and goes isn’t doing it justice.” He laughed softly. “He's a good guy. Hell, he's saved me and Sam more times than I can count. But he's been a little...off, recently. Disappears a lot more, something's going on with him." He sat on the bed to pull on his shoes. 

"He seems pretty awkward with me." She replied, opening a drawer and retrieving several vials of holy water and a silver knife. 

"Oh, that's all Cas, he doesn't do well around people that aren't me and Sammy. Especially not women." He grinned. 

She laughed and hoisted the bag over her shoulder. "That explains it. Ready?" He nodded and stood up. "Don't forget the booze." He grabbed the bottle and the untouched beers and followed her out to their cars. 

She followed behind the Impala and let a whistle through her teeth as they pulled up outside the building. "This place is huge!" She called to him as they got out. 

"Yeah, turns out we inherited way more than just our dashing good looks."

She guffawed and followed him down the steps. Sam had just got out of the shower and was walking through the main room in a towel as they came in. 

"Jeez, Sam, put some clothes on. There are ladies present." Dean said as they came down the stairs. 

"Oh no, don't change on my account. Take the towel off if it makes you more comfortable." She grinned wolfishly and winked at Sam. Dean shot her a look and she and Sam both laughed. He walked to his room and shut the door.

"Uncool." Dean grumbled at her. 

"Aww, you know I'm only kidding." She said, smacking his behind with her free hand. "Where am I staying, then? Do I get a tour?" 

He set down the beers on the table. "Do I look like a tour guide?"

She laughed. "Fine, just tell me where I'm sleeping, I can look around on my own. Touch all your stuff." She was walking around the room as she talked, and stopped to pick up the same scimitar Dean had cut himself on. She admired it for a moment before putting it back. Dean was a little disappointed she didn’t test it for sharpness.

"Whatever, asshat, you're just down the hall. Third on the right."

"Thanks, dear." She said, grabbing her bag and sauntering off in the direction he'd indicated. He watched her go, wondering if there was any possible way this could end well. He didn't think so. The last time had been different, somehow. _She'd_ been different, a whole other creature, a whirlwind of sex and laughter, and a fucking welcome break from all the crap the angels had been throwing at him that year. That was still there, but there was a vulnerability to her now. A kind of brokenness he was all too familiar with, and was finding himself more than a little drawn to.

She walked into the room and shut the door, looking around. It was pretty much bare, except for a chest of drawers, a nightstand with a lamp, and a bed with a pile of neatly folded sheets and blankets at its foot. She dumped her bag next to the bed and turned to pick up the sheets, nearly jumping out of her skin as she saw Castiel standing in the corner she’d just come from.

"Fuck me! Never heard of knocking?" She exclaimed, heart hammering. 

"Sorry. I didn't wish to startle you." He said softly.

"Well consider me startled." She replied. "Speaking of which, what the hell was that last night?"

"Ah, I'd hoped you hadn't seen that." He said, moving closer. "A...misunderstanding."

"A misunderstanding, huh?" She smirked. "It looked a lot like you were watching."

He hesitated, unsure how to word it.

"You were watching, weren't you?" She folded her arms. 

"I...yes." He sighed and looked around nervously. "Dean is- well, Sam and Dean are special to me. I intended to just see where he'd gone, but then I saw you together, and..." He glanced up at her. 

"You may be an angel, Castiel, but that doesn’t give you a free pass to just stand outside motels and watch people have sex. It's creepy." 

"I didn't mean to be creepy."

"I could spend all day explaining how intent has nothing to do with how people feel about what you do, but something tells me you've had this conversation before."

"Several times." He agreed with a solemn expression she almost laughed at. 

"And creepy sex-watching aside, can you stop acting so weird around me? I'm just a person, same as Sam and Dean, only you know, with more boobs and less plaid. Please?" She turned to begin making the bed. He decided to try. 

"I saw your scars." He said quietly. She stopped moving and stood with her back to him, trying not to let her face move. 

"I could have fixed them, if I'd known you when you got them." She turned toward him, hoping her face was normal by now. He touched her ribs gently; she hardly flinched this time. "They're too old now. I know they still ache, itch constantly, burn when anything from hell comes near." He was focused now, reading her from the inside. "That's why you don't hunt demons any more, it hurts until you can't move. It’s not real pain, you know. It’s vestigial fear from the dreams." He reassured her, meeting her gaze and holding it this time. She stared at him, amazed, awed, a little fearful. He had an unbidden urge to touch her face the way he often did with Dean, but didn't move, just stared into her eyes. She blinked first and looked away, unsure how to reply.

"Don't...say anything to Dean?" She said when she could form words again. Something about the angel's eyes... He pitied her, that much was obvious. She didn’t mind it so much from Castiel, somehow. Maybe it was the knowledge that she couldn’t hide it, that he clearly saw her inside and out. But she knew she couldn't handle the same from Dean. She made her hands busy, making the bed with her back to the angel again. 

Castiel watched her, as he'd watched all last night. He could see that her soul was battered too, albeit in a slightly different way to Sam or Dean's. He saw so few intact these days, and it made him sad. 

He'd stayed to watch her with Dean, not because of any real sexual perversion (though he had to admit that part was interesting too), but because when they'd been entwined, they glowed together. Sometimes Dean's soul was dull and colourless, and had been duller than usual since purgatory. He'd put that down to the hardship sapping his essence - he'd felt drained himself, though he was still unsure how much of that was down to Naomi. 

Castiel sometimes felt a glow of pride and a feeling he now recognised as love when Dean or Sam lit up for him; sometimes so bright he squinted his eyes against the glare. But it was always interesting to watch when it was for another human. He'd been watching their colours shift and change when she'd noticed his presence. He didn't think she would understand if he explained that to her, though, so he just stood and watched her make the bed. 

When she finished she straightened her back and admired her handiwork, then turned back to find the angel had gone. Dean had said he disappeared a lot. She wondered idly where he went as she left her room to explore. Heaven, maybe? She made a mental note to ask one of the guys. Probably Sam, he always talked most. 

She walked through long, brightly lit hallways and opened doors, peering into dark, empty rooms and dusty closets. This place hadn't been lived in for decades, she guessed, although it was in great condition. There were wardings everywhere, too, carved into the brickwork in most places. Clever. She'd come across more demons than she could count since she'd met the Winchesters, and at Dean’s suggestion had got a tattoo of her own – although the placement had been her idea, he’d appreciated that too. Luckily, unlike the brothers she hadn't had to learn the hard way how useful anti-possession tattoos could be. Her stomach growled and she checked her watch. It was nearly two in the afternoon and she hadn't eaten yet. She made her way back to the main room, and was congratulating herself silently on her sense of direction as she nearly walked into Dean coming out of his room. 

"I'm starving, you guys got any food?" She asked. He shook his head. 

"Nah, I was gonna make a run into town. You want anything specific?" He patted his pockets for his keys and fished them out. 

"Nope." She wanted to kiss him, but knew she shouldn't. The unwritten rule of their relationship, such as it was, was no kissing unless you were about to have sex.

"Cool." He flashed a smile and walked away. She followed him as far as the main room to find Sam reading.

"Hey." She said, flopping down into a chair across from him. "You seen the angel? He was talking to me earlier and then poof." She splayed her hands out to indicate his disappearance.

"Can't say I have." He said, putting down the book he was reading. "He does that, though. You get used to it."

"Where does he go? Heaven?" 

Sam laughed. "I doubt it. Heaven aren’t too happy with Cas, on account of him going more than a little off the rails the past few years." She tried to imagine Castiel going off the rails and couldn't - the guy seemed stiff as a board. 

Her curiosity was piqued and she leaned forward, resting an elbow on the table. "Do tell.”

"Where do I start?" He raised his eyebrows. "I guess from when you last saw us, huh." She nodded, and he sighed and began to talk. He started off meaning to only tell her some of the more basic, less personal things, but the more he talked, the more he realised he needed to get it out and just tell someone, and found himself going way further back than that. She didn't interrupt except to nod or prompt him when he trailed off. He told her everything she didn’t already know, elaborating on what she did. Dean going to hell, Cas, the angels, Ruby, demon blood, going to hell himself, Lucifer torturing him, Lisa and Ben, Leviathans, Purgatory, Benny, the year he'd spent with Amelia while Dean had been gone, his decision to let her go, Cas' weird behaviour since he’d reappeared, and finally Kevin and the tablets. At some point - though he wasn’t sure when - he got up and started pacing the room, brow furrowed as he spoke.

When he finished over half an hour later, she sat in stunned silence, mouth open a little. 

"You went to hell? With Lucifer himself?" He nodded. "Fuck, Sam..." She’d known about Dean going to hell – the couple of days she’d spent with him some months after Castiel brought him back had been the most intense she’d ever experienced. He’d been surly and distracted, but he’d actually _talked_ to her about it. She’d been completely taken aback by the uncharacteristic openness and comforted him the best she could – mostly with hard liquor and harder fucking – but with Sam, she didn’t think that method was appropriate. What do you say when someone spends a year in a cage with the devil? ‘Sorry, that must have been a really hard time?’

"I, uh, haven't really said it all aloud like that. Ever. I guess it’s a lot to take in." He laughed. She chuckled faintly. 

"You could say that.” She spread her hands on the table and stood up. “Well, if ever I needed a drink, it’s now. Want one?” He nodded and she grabbed them a beer each. She could at least do the alcohol part.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should say I know that in canon Naomi wipes Castiel's memory of her - it's explained in a later chapter. I made all the stuff up about the bunker, obviously, and I'm fully aware it's probably nowhere even close to canon (and it's likely neither is my explanation of Creeper!Cas) but whaddaya gonna do.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean cursed under his breath as he fumbled at the door handle, trying not to drop the three overflowing grocery bags. He managed to snag it on his little finger and pull it down, pushing his way in with his face entirely obscured by the brown paper. 

"Guys, a little help?" He called as he tried to negotiate the stairs and felt the bags slipping. He could hear snickering. "Yeah, yeah, hilarious, now come help me before this crap ends up on the floor." The stairs clanged as Emma jogged up and pulled one of the bags out of his arms. 

"You better have got something decent to eat, Winchester." She said as she wrapped an arm around the bag and made her way down the steps. She set it on the map table and rummaged in it.

"You actually bought vegetables?" Sam asked from the doorway as she pulled out a lettuce and bag of string beans. "Amazing. Almost like you were trying to impress someone." He grinned at Dean, who pulled a face.

"Shut it, Gigantor. I'm going down to the range, I need to shoot things." Dean slid past his brother, and made his way to the basement. 

"I have no idea what we're going to make with this." She held up an eggplant and raised an eyebrow at Sam. "But I guess it's the thought that counts, huh?"

He chuckled and walked down the steps to grab the bags Dean had left on the table. She followed him to the kitchen, which was huge; she could see at least six shiny gas stoves, three ovens big enough to fit a grown man inside, two sinks and a tiled floor. "This seems unnecessarily big for two guys and an angel who doesn't even eat." She commented as she walked in. 

Sam shrugged. “I guess there used to be more than two men of letters.”

“You wanna get repopulating?” She wiggled her eyebrows and he laughed.

“Someday.”

She watched his face as it dropped, silently cursing herself for being so stupid. She should have known better; they’d talked more before Dean came back and she knew how much he was hurting over Amelia and the loss of the normal life he so desperately wanted. “You know if you ever need to talk more about anything, I’m here.”

“Sure.” He gave her a half smile. “Thanks.”

He put away the groceries while she made sandwiches, eating hers as she cut the others with a gigantic knife. She flipped it and caught it by the handle. "This knife is amazing. Check the balance!" She said around a mouthful of bread and meat, pointing it at Sam, who was standing nearer than she'd thought and almost took the sharp end in his stomach. 

"Were you planning on gutting me with it?" He said, stepping quickly out of arms reach. "Cause I gotta say, I'd rather you didn't." He reached cautiously past her to grab his sandwich, other hand raised in surrender. She laughed and put the knife down. 

"You're safe for now, Sam. Gonna go take this to your prick of a brother." She grinned and grabbed the plate with Dean's sandwich. 

He'd put the earplugs in after his ears had already started ringing. It helped, though, he had to admit, listening to his heart beating sure and steady as he aimed at another target and squeezed off a shot, letting his arms absorb the kick. Hardly having to think, just concentrate and rely on instinct, the way he liked it. He'd hit dead centre and gave himself a little congratulatory smirk before raising the gun again, eyes squinted in focus. 

She set the plate down quietly on the table beside the door and moved behind him, treading carefully despite the bright orange nubs poking out of his ears telling her he couldn't hear a thing. His attention was focused on the target, but she snuck up in his blind spot regardless. He jumped as she slid her arms around his sides and under his t-shirt, almost but not quite pulling the trigger again in surprise. He tried to ignore her roaming hands and squared his shoulders for another shot, but her fingers were sliding further down his stomach, making his skin twitch and his cock stir in his pants and when he did shoot, he missed the target by a full two feet.

She laughed and plucked an earplug out of his ear. 

"The great Dean Winchester misses his shot." She purred against the back of his neck. "Who'd have thought it." She planted a kiss against his spine and the hairs on his neck raised, tingling pleasantly. She stepped away and he dropped the gun on the counter in front of him and turned to face her, pulling the other earplug out.

"You know you really shouldn't sneak up on a guy with a gun in his hand." He growled at her. She smirked.

"Oh, that wouldn't be the first time a guy discharged his weapon in the wrong place because of me." She winked and stepped closer, eyes roaming his face. "I made you a sandwich, you gorgeous fuck." 

His hands went to her hips, pulling her closer to him. "Well now, I could definitely get used to this." He said, pressing their lips together. He slid his hand round to her ass and gave it a sharp smack. She made a delicious half-yelp, half-moan noise against his lips and he kissed her harder. Her lips parted beneath his and then they were kissing, really kissing, tongues fighting and exploring. She pulled back for a second, breathing hard, already tingling with desire. "Your sandwich?"

"Fuck my sandwich, I'd rather eat you." He said, pushing her back into the room. She stepped backward as he advanced until her back hit the wall and his lips were on her again, kissing along her jaw and down her neck. She moaned as his hands slid up her shirt and found her breasts, fingers squeezing gently but firmly.

He pulled away to drag her t-shirt up and over her head, throwing it to the floor as his lips found her neck again. He ground his hips into hers, and she gave a giggle. He didn't know what was so funny but he didn't care, he just wanted to hear her moan again. He slid a hand between them and rubbed her roughly through her jeans. She whimpered quietly, pulling his face to hers to kiss him again, insistent and breathless. He unbuttoned her jeans with one hand and slid it into her underwear, fingers finding her clit and rubbing slowly in a circle. Her head fell back against the wall and he took the opportunity to attack her neck again, sliding his free hand around her lower back and beginning to work her jeans and underwear down, fingers on the other still working gently against her. She wriggled her hips to help and he got them down enough to grab a handful of her bare ass. She moaned into his ear and made to reach for his belt, but he grabbed her wrist and pinned it against the wall, grinning at her raised eyebrows.

She tried to kiss him but he jerked his head out of her reach. "Ah Jesus, really?" She said, trying and failing again to catch his mouth with hers. She scowled up at him. He kissed her quickly on the lips and pulled her wrist across her body, spinning her around so she was facing the wall, positioning her palms flat against it, fingers running back down her arms. She leant into the wall, cold against the swell of her breasts. He knelt, dragging her jeans down her legs completely, and she kicked them off. She half-turned but he pushed her back.

“Stay there.” He ordered. The way his voice dropped a few octaves when he told her what to do should not have been so hot, she thought lazily as she obeyed, body throbbing with anticipation.

He ran his hands up the backs of her thighs and she shivered, hairs rising up her back. He leant forward and laid a kiss on the back of her knee, and she puffed out the breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding in. He kissed up her leg, hands travelling up her outer thighs as he went. His hands were rough and rasped against her skin, sending extra shivers up her legs and making her bite her lip to keep from making a noise. 

When he reached her ass he bit at each cheek in turn and then she did whimper. He grinned against her skin and bit again, harder this time, and she hissed quietly through her teeth. He pulled her hips back, making her bend at the waist. He licked at her inner thighs, watching her tremble, making her wait. She spread her legs little further and he finally pulled her back and buried his face in her ass, tongue probing for her clit. She moaned loudly as he found it, realising as she did so that the sound was probably echoing up to Sam. She bit harder on her lip and tried to keep quiet, which was getting more difficult because his tongue was moving against her faster and he was pulling her into him more and _fuck_ , his tongue was amazing.

He sucked at her hard and pulled off, making a satisfying smacking sound and resulting in another groan. He span her around again, and she fell back against the wall a little harder than she meant to, but he had already hooked one of her legs over his shoulder and was kissing her inner thigh. She gazed down at him, and he slid his tongue along her skin to run his tongue gently along her clit, teasing it, lips curling up as she fisted a hand in his shirt, a soft keening noise slipping from her throat. He rubbed at her clit harder now, up and down, bringing a hand up to grab her ass. Her fingers were tight on the material and shaking a little, her head falling back to the wall again. He knew she was close, so he brought his fingers around and gently pushed one inside her. She moaned, and he found her g-spot and rubbed it, moving his tongue faster against her clit and she cried out again, breath coming shorter as she began to come apart, her entire body shuddering. He didn't stop moving his tongue, though he did gently release the pressure of his fingers as her knees buckled slightly. When she'd ridden her orgasm out, he set her foot back on the floor and stood to kiss her, hands on her hips. She kissed him hard, twining her tongue with his and biting gently on his lower lip. She let it go and looked at him.

"I was going to say don't get used to the sandwich service, but if that's my payment I might have to rethink." She said, murmuring the last few words against his lips; she couldn't help but kiss him again. He tasted like her, and it was turning her on more. Her hands went to his jeans button and her lips went to his neck. She kissed back along his jaw, his stubble prickly against her lips. 

She undid his jeans and his cock bobbed out, bouncing heavily. The sight of it alone was enough to send a knee-weakening pulse of arousal through her. Her lower lip caught in her teeth as she looked down, fingers curling around its warm thickness. "You know it really isn't fair," she breathed, hand sliding along his length, eyes on his. "That a guy that looks like you should have such a perfect cock as well." He grinned as she knelt to slide her tongue over the tip, grin faltering and lips forming an 'o' as she took more of the head and sucked gently. She pulled off and licked the little freckle he had just an inch behind the head. She grinned up at him before running her tongue along the shaft again, coating him generously in saliva. She stood, hand around him again and working in the slickness she'd created. She kissed him and swallowed his moan when she rubbed her thumb over the sensitive juncture on the underside.

He pushed her hard against the wall and crushed his lips to hers again, hands sliding round underneath her behind. He pulled her further up the wall and braced one thigh under her to support her weight as he used his hand to guide his cock inside her, clumsy in his sudden urgency to feel her around him. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he pushed into her all the way. She gasped a little as he stretched her, fingers clutching at the shoulders of his shirt again. He hooked his elbows underneath her knees and pulled out a little, meeting her eyes before thrusting hard back into her. Her eyes widened and her body reacted violently, back arching and pushing her away from the wall as he hit a spot deep inside her. He held tight and repeated the action and groaned as she clenched around him, bucking her hips to increase the friction. 

He pushed closer, pinning her to the wall with his whole body so she couldn’t move, grinding their hips together, kissing her between their curses and moans. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he began to move faster, the sound of their skin slapping together echoing through the room. She was panting and whispering ‘fuck’ over and over in his ear and the sensation of her breath hot down his neck combined with the warmth and wetness of her around his cock was driving him crazy. He wasn’t going to last much longer. He thrust into her faster, his jeans slipping down to his ankles.

“Oh fuck, Dean, fuck!” She cried, forgetting to be quiet as she came again. He grunted against her neck as her body fought his again, pushing them away from the wall a second time. His thighs were shaking and her muscles were still fluttering around him as he felt his own orgasm slam through him. He almost dropped her as his muscles all seemed to want to give way at once, instead pressing them hard against the wall again. As his head cleared, he realised the reason she’d felt so good was that he’d forgotten to use a condom. He pulled out. Fuck, fuck and fuck. He stared at her, horrified, as she shakily put her feet back on the floor. He took a few steps back in case she got violent.

“Jesus Christ, Dean.” She said, grimacing as his come ran down her thigh. “I thought something felt different.”

“Shit, sorry, I just-“ 

“Yeah. Good fucking job I’ve got this.” She poked at her left bicep. He looked at her blankly. “Implant, fuckwad. Birth control.” She glared at him for a second, before her face split into a reluctant grin. “Wow, it’s really a good job you’re so pretty. You just get away with everything.” She kissed him quickly on the lips and pulled his t-shirt up over his head. She used it to mop at her thighs and handed it back. He pulled a face.

“Wow, thanks. And I didn’t get you anything.”

“Hey, you make the mess, you deal with it.” She snagged her own t-shirt off the floor and pulled it on. While she went about picking up the rest of her clothes, Dean dragged his jeans up his legs, doing them up as he made his way over to his neglected sandwich. He took a huge bite and moaned appreciatively around the food. “You look really gross when you eat.” She said, laughing and pecking him on a bulging cheek. He grinned, bread stuck in his teeth.

“You love it.”

“Yeah, sure.” She snorted. ”I’m going for a shower.”

Dean followed when he’d finished eating, t-shirt in hand. Sam made a disgusted sound as his brother walked in, all sex hair and naked from the waist up. 

“Ah shit, you two are gross.” He groaned, covering his eyes. “Tell me when you’re gone, I don’t wanna have to look at this.” 

Dean laughed and sauntered down the hall to the bathroom, dropping the soiled shirt into the laundry room on the way. 

When he joined her in the shower room, she was washing her hair vigorously and didn’t notice him. He watched her for a few seconds, eyes roaming her body. His gaze lingered on her scars, jarringly bright against her skin. He wanted to reach out and touch them, and a part of him wanted to hold her tight and tell her he’d never let anything like that happen to her again. He quickly squashed _that_ thought flat. There was no sense making things any more complicated than they already were. Arm’s length, he reminded himself. He went to the other end of the room and turned on a shower.

Emma opened her eyes when she’d rinsed away the shampoo and saw him, wondering why he’d not at least said something when he came in. One hand crept to her ribs and she rubbed at the marks absent-mindedly, eyes still on his back. Whatever. She slicked conditioner into her hair and combed through it with her fingers, pointedly not looking at him as she shaved her legs and rinsed the conditioner out. She let herself cast another glance his way and caught him watching her. He looked away guiltily and she rolled her eyes, grinning as she grabbed her towel and made her way back to her room, amazed at how quickly he could switch between acting like an assured Lothario and an awkward teenage boy.

That night Sam fried them steaks and they sat and watched The Dark Knight together, arguing over Bale’s portrayal of Batman. Emma pointed out that it must waste a lot of valuable bad-guy punching time applying the black eye make-up he wore under the mask and none of them could take him seriously after that, settling the matter.

When the movie finished, Sam dismissed himself to bed first, though they’d all stood up at once. Dean scowled after him, wondering if he knew how obvious he was being. When he turned back, she was standing in front of him. She smelt of coconut. She leaned in and kissed him, slowly, deliberately, hands on his chest. He pulled her closer by the waist and mirrored her, his other hand coming up and resting on her neck. She pulled away first.

“’Night, Dean.” She said, sliding out of his embrace and making her way to her room. He gaped after her, cold spots blooming on his chest where her hands had been moments before.

She cursed herself when she shut the door behind her. She’d wanted to do that all night, but even still. She’d had to leave before she invited him to her room, and despite what her body was saying, she knew she’d be sore if they fucked again today. She braided her hair and climbed into bed, shivering a little as she slid under the cool sheets. She clicked off the lamp and lay back, hoping tonight would be like last night and she’d sleep right through. Too many times in the last year she’d woken with a jolt, a half-remembered scream still on her lips.


	5. Chapter 5

She woke and sat up sharply, shaking and covered in a thin sheen of cool sweat, hoping the scream had caught in her throat. Less than half a minute later, Dean burst in, sawn-off shotgun in hand, face set and eyes hard, and she sighed in annoyance. Fucking nightmares. When he saw her sitting there, breathing hard and shivering, his expression softened and he lowered the gun.

"Sorry." She muttered through chattering teeth, wrapping her arms around herself tightly. 

"Don’t worry about it." He said gently, taking an uncertain step towards her. "You okay?"

"Just a dream." She tried a smile, but it felt like more of a grimace so she let it drop.

"Everything okay?" Sam asked, peering round the door. "Are you robbing her or something?" He said to his brother, who was still holding the shotgun in a loose grasp by his side. "You could have at least put clothes on. Oh god I haven’t just walked in on you role playing, have I?"

Dean looked down and realised he was in fact, only wearing boxers. 

"Jesus, Sam. No." 

Emma laughed. “Two days and we’re role playing? Sam either you get bored quickly or you’re way kinkier than I had you down.”

"Neither, but thanks. If no one’s being killed, I’m going back to bed." He gave Dean one last disappointed look before turning and making his way back down the hall. 

"Me too. You gonna be alright?" Dean shifted his grip on the gun, trying not to look as uncomfortable as he felt. 

She nodded, chewing her lips. He turned to go and was almost out of the door when she screwed up her face. “Dean, wait.” It rushed out of her mouth and she felt herself flush. “Fuck, sorry. It’s just…can you stay?” She lowered her eyes to her knees tented under the covers, twisting her hands in the sheets. 

He hesitated. If he went to her, that would mean something, right? He hadn’t signed on for this. He didn’t need to be looking after anyone but Sammy, but if he left with the way she looked now… He found himself walking over to her bed. She smiled up at him and pulled the covers back so he could climb in. She was relieved when his warm skin pressed against hers, and overwhelmingly embarrassed for sounding - and being - so needy. 

She pushed her face against the crook of his neck when he curled an arm around her and breathed him in. What the hell was she doing? She knew this would happen. She’d felt her ‘this is just casual sex’ nonchalance slipping the last time they’d been together, and had known then that if she saw him again it’d only get worse. She’d been alone for too long, and being around someone who actually seemed to give a crap again…it was too much. She realised in horror that tears were pricking at her eyelids. 

She rolled onto her side, back to him, willing them away. Jesus, what the hell was happening to her? She never cried – it was just a waste of water and energy – yet that made it two times in as many days that she’d nearly blubbed. Dean, to his credit, didn’t speak or offer any more comfort than to throw an arm over her waist and settle down to sleep.

After around half an hour of listening to him snore softly, she let herself slip back into sleep. When she woke with a silent start again at 4am, he pulled her closer and murmured quiet reassurances into her hair until she relaxed and slept again.

It wasn’t until he woke in the morning, stretched out on his back with one of her legs over his, that he realised he’d been mirroring what Lisa had done for him when he’d lost Sam to the cage. He practically vaulted out of the bed, waking her, but hardly noticing. He needed to get out. He went to his room and dragged on some clothes, practically sprinting up the stairs and out to the Impala.

He gritted his teeth and gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles were white as he sped off. This wasn’t happening. He didn’t want to think about any of that. Fuck. He knew the problem, though. They were getting too close. He’d promised himself, _that_ day, when he’d asked Cas for one last thing; never again. He just wasn’t meant to have that, much as he desperately needed it. He was meant to be alone until he finally died for good. He’d learnt his lesson, or so he’d thought. And Emma, of all people? He barked a laugh in the quiet of the car. 

She rubbed her eyes and sat in the bed for a few minutes, wondering what the hell had just happened. She got up and wandered down the hall, barefoot and in her pyjamas, to see where he’d gone. The main room was empty, as was the map room. She figured he’d gone out so she made her way to the kitchen, where she found Sam pouring milk into a bowl of cereal.

"Hey, you. Want some?" He nodded at the box.

"Sure, thanks." She fetched a bowl and he poured her some. 

"Where’s Dean?" He asked while they ate.

"Was gonna ask you the same thing. He woke up and kind of…ran out. Like, literally." She raised her eyebrows, chasing the last few flakes around the bowl with her spoon. 

"Huh. Weird. You didn’t fart on him or something?"

She laughed. “Not that I’m aware of. I was asleep, though. It’s a possibility.” 

Sam chuckled. “I can give him a call, I don’t-“

"No!" She cut him off a little too forcefully. His eyebrows shot up. "I just mean, I just- there’s no need, I’m sure it’s nothing. Just your average fly out of bed and out of the door with no explanation kind of thing." She gave him a wry smile. 

"Yeah, I’m gonna call him." Sam said, pulling his phone from his pocket. 

"Don’t you-" She slipped off the stool she’d been perching on and advanced on him, cereal forgotten. He held the phone out of her reach and tried to navigate the menu one handed. She reached for it and nearly grabbed it, so he stood up and held it above his head. She wasn’t _that_ tall. “Sam Winchester, I am not above rubbing my boobs on you to get that phone. Hell, I will climb you if I have to.” She said sternly. They glared at each other, jaws set hard. He broke first, laughing as he surrendered and lowered the phone.

"Fine, I won’t call. How about you, uh, get dressed, and we look over some more files? Cas said he was looking into the vamp nest last night, so he should be around soon too."

"I like your thinking, mister. By the way, you’re washing up." She slid her nearly empty bowl over to the sink and gave him a wink before trotting back to her room to wash up and get dressed. Sam waited until she was definitely gone before pulling his phone back out and texting Dean. 

'Where did you go? Your woman is threatening to climb me. Might let her.'

He locked the phone with a smirk. No way he’d ignore that. Sure enough, as Sam decided to leave the washing up for later and was making his way back to the main room, his phone buzzed. 

'Hands off. And she's not my woman, douchelord. But hands off.' 

He laughed and tapped out a reply. ‘Just come back, idiot. Think you upset her.’ 

A few minutes later, another buzz. ‘She’s a big girl, she can handle it. I’ll be a few hours.’

'Don't be a dick. She likes you and yr bitchfit yesterday says you do too. Stop fucking it up.'

Silence after that. He left him to it; he’d work it out in his own time. Which could be in a few hours or a few years, knowing Dean. 

Dean drove all day, checking up on Kevin, bringing him more groceries and caffeine pills. Kid looked like hell, but he said he was making real progress, so after a while of watching him pore over the tablet on his desk, Dean left again.

He stopped for coffee and pie at a diner he knew did a delicious lemon meringue. It made him feel a little better. He decided, fork in hand, that there were two options. One was tell her they needed to cool it, be strictly platonic from then on, which didn’t appeal. Or he could tell her…what? That he was a fuck up, and every woman he’d ever gotten close to had either died or no longer knew he existed? That appealed less. He drove more after that, ruminating, still unable to decide. When the sun started getting low enough to get in his eyes, he turned back toward the bunker.

It was only as he pulled up outside he realised leaving like he did had probably been a huge dick move. Sam always had a fucking point. He steeled himself and made his way down the steps, unlocking the door and stepping warily into the light of the bunker. 

He found them on the couch and was immediately annoyed. Emma was lying with her head in Sam’s lap, a tablet propped against her legs. She’d got her knees up, feet almost touching Castiel, who was watching her intently, looking nowhere near as uncomfortable as he had in her presence before. At least not until he looked up and met Dean’s cool gaze.

"Dean…" He said, shifting in his seat, unsure whether to stand. Sam looked up from his book when Cas spoke, and wasn’t sure whether to look mad at or amused by his brother, his expression switching between the two for a few seconds before settling on a smirk that made Dean want to punch him. Emma glanced at Dean, at Cas, then back to her tablet, poking at it a few times, expression unchanged.

"Well this all looks very cosy." He said levelly, moving further into the room and shrugging off his jacket.

Cas did stand up then. “We were waiting for you.” He said. 

"Yeah?" He moved closer to Castiel, their eyes locked. 

Emma swung herself upright and Dean’s eyes fell to her, although he could see in the corner of his eye that Cas was still watching him warily. “Yeah, Cas thinks he found the nest, only we thought you might wanna come too. It’s gonna have to wait ‘til tomorrow now, going at night would be asking for trouble. Plus they’ll probably be out hunting.” She tried hard to keep her voice calm, but he could tell she was pissed. 

“I was driving, must have lost track of time.”

"Where the fuck did you go that it took you all day?" 

"Missouri."

"Wh- you know what, nevermind." She stood up. "Did you eat?"

"Around lunch, why?"

"Cause I’m cooking, dipshit. _Proper_ food. Sam?" She gave Dean one last hard look and stalked out of the room. Sam snapped his book shut and followed, shrugging at Dean’s ‘what the fuck’ expression. 

Castiel watched the whole exchange, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Humans truly were fascinating. Dean turned to look at him, but he’d gone. He sighed in frustration. Cas really did have the worst timing, he’d been hoping to at least find out where the nest was. 

Castiel blinked, the warm light of the bunker replaced with harsh, sterile white. Naomi sat across from where he stood, smiling serenely from behind her desk. 

"Naomi?" He started. "What-"

She gestured to the chair across from her. "Castiel, please, have a seat."

He didn’t move. “What do you need?” Naomi noted his defiance, and pressed her lips tightly together before continuing. 

“The angel tablet, Castiel. I still need you to find anyone that knows about it. Do your job.”

“I have been doing my job.” Cas protested.

“You have been helping the Winchesters again.” She said the name as if it was dirty.

“It was a minor thing, finding a vampire nest…Most of my time was devoted to your work.”

“Oh Castiel, no. I want _all_ of your time.” She stood up and moved around the desk until she was in front of him. “You understand that you decimated heaven, Castiel. You don’t get to timeshare. You do what I tell you, and only what I tell you. Understood?”

Castiel glared at her for a long time. A hazy memory, buried deep, tried to resurface. Held down, struggling against his bonds as Naomi advanced on him with her silvery drill. His eyes widened and he took an involuntary step back from her. Her smile grew. “What have you been doing to me?” He asked quietly.

“All you need to know, Castiel, is that you are doing your penance. And you _will_ find the demons Crowley told about the tablet. If I find you with the Winchesters, unless it is with my express permission, things will get a lot worse for you. Now go.” She clicked her fingers, wiping Castiel’s memory of the drill and all but the most pertinent points of their conversation. That had to be the fourth time she’d had to make him forget her experiments. She’d have to really dig it out next time, she thought, tapping her fingers on the desk. Letting him remember her had also been a bad idea – at the time it had seemed like a good way to remind him he was under orders (and more importantly, whose orders) while she let him go back to those idiot humans, but now she regretted it. His moment of disobedience would not be forgotten. 

When Castiel blinked again, he was standing beside a highway, with no recollection as to how he got there. He was already searching for Dean when he remembered that he wasn’t supposed to speak to him. Why? He strained to think, but couldn’t. Just an echo of words, repeating like a mantra: ‘Do not go to the Winchesters. Do not speak to Sam or Dean. Find the demons who know.’ He furrowed his brow. But they needed him. He had to at least explain why he wasn’t going with them to the nest. He found his old cell phone in his pocket. A stabbing pain struck in his head and he nearly doubled over, clutching at it. No phones, then. How could he get word…? Then he remembered.


	6. Chapter 6

“You said you’d do the washing up, numbnuts!” Emma threw the balled up teatowel at Sam’s retreating back, laughing. He was carrying two plates to the main room, piled high with braised meat, rice and veg. She turned back to get her own plate, and came face to face with Castiel. He clamped a hand on her shoulder, and in a heartbeat they were at the end of a dock, bright moonlight shining off the surface of the water.

“What in the everloving _fuck_ was that?” She gasped, head spinning. Castiel caught her arm to steady her.

“I don’t have time to explain. Heaven…I-“ He gazed at her helplessly, unable to find the words.

“Cas, what? Are you okay?”

“No.” He growled, letting go of her arm. “Someone’s doing something to me. I can’t remember!” He looked around, frustrated. “I don’t know who, but whoever it is has forbidden me to speak with Sam or Dean. You’re the closest one to them, and you seem trustworthy. They can’t know anything is wrong. If they know, they’ll try and help, and heaven will find out. It’ll get them killed. Just tell them I…Tell them I need to do more penance. For Samandriel. They’ll understand.”

“Of course, but-“ 

“I have to get you back, they’ll be worried.” He took her wrist this time, and then they were under a streetlamp by the side of a road, shadowy woods either side. “I can’t risk taking you back all the way, but we’re a half hour’s drive away. A driver is coming. He will take you back to the bunker.” He let go of her again, but she grabbed him back. 

“Whatever’s going on, Cas, please don’t get yourself killed.” She implored, an edge of desperation in her voice. She cleared her throat, unsure where it had come from. “From what Sam said earlier, I don’t think they could take losing you again.”

He looked at her sadly. “I know. I’ll try.”

She leaned forward and kissed him quickly on the cheek. He stared at her for a second - expression unfathomable, eyes wide - and then he was gone. She blinked, not expecting him to disappear so quickly, and saw lights in the distance. 

As they came closer, they slowed and she stuck out a thumb, left arm tight around her ribs again as a chill wind snapped against her bare skin. She’d only been wearing a t-shirt and jeans when Cas had zapped her out of the kitchen – it was practically toasty in the bunker, but there was a cold snap in the air out under the Kansas stars. She was grateful for the warmth flowing from the truck’s heater, but her thoughts were dark as they drove down the winding asphalt – luckily the guy who’d picked her up wasn’t the chatty type, so she had time to stew. Castiel seemed to be in real trouble, and she couldn’t do anything about it. She’d only known him for a few days, but she knew how much he meant to the guys, and it was going to kill her to lie to them about him. He’d said she was trustworthy and asked her to lie in the same breath. She almost snorted.

She had him drop her at the end of the lane, so it was another five minute walk back in the pitch black December night. She cursed Castiel silently under her breath, teeth chattering as she pushed open the door into the blessed warmth of the bunker. Both Winchesters jumped to their feet as she entered, shutting the heavy iron door tight behind her.

“Emma!”

“Where the fuck were you?”

“Cas t-t-took me.” She was shivering twice as hard as she made her way down the steps. Dean grabbed his jacket off the back of a chair and went to her, surprising her a little by going as far as to wrap it protectively around her shoulders. 

“Cas took you? Where?” Sam looked at his brother quizzically.

“Some dock. By a lake, I don’t know where exactly. But the moon was out.”

“Okay, but _why_?” Dean demanded.

She’d been rehearsing this part in her head for most of the drive. “He said he couldn’t face telling you, but he needed to make up for- for…Samandrell?”

“Samandriel?” Sam corrected.

“Yeah, that.” 

“That seem kosher to you?” Dean asked his brother. Sam shrugged. He looked back at Emma. “Did he look like he was hiding anything? Keeping something from you?”

He looked so concerned; she wanted to tell him there and then that Cas was in trouble. She forced herself to shake her head. “Maybe, I don’t know. He seemed okay to me. You know, sad, but okay.”

Dean moved away from her, starting to pace. She pulled his jacket tighter around her shoulders and leaned against the table next to Sam. The coat was huge on her but she was glad, since it hid that her fingers were pressing at her scars again.

“Son of a bitch.” Dean muttered to himself, rubbing both hands over his face. “What the hell, Cas.”

“So he’s not coming back for the nest?” Sam asked her.

“He said he thinks we can handle the nest alone, and he might be gone a while. I’m sorry, guys.” She dropped her eyes from Sam’s and looked at the floor.

“It’s not- it’s not your fault. It’s him. Something’s been wrong with him since-“ Dean cut himself off. He didn’t want to have to explain to Emma about purgatory.

“Since purgatory.” Sam finished for him. “She already knows, Dean. I told her everything.”

“Everything? Wow Sam, why not put a sign over her head with ‘please torture me for information’ written on it?” Dean snapped, throwing his arms up.

“Whoa, hey, right here you know. And no one’s torturing anyone, okay?” She stepped forward, attempting lamely to mediate.

“Yeah, not yet they’re not.” Dean shot his brother a look. “What the fuck were you thinking, Sam?”

“I was thinking that we’re in the middle of a shitstorm, Dean. And she’s coming in blind. She had to know _something_ about what’s going on, especially if she’s going to be here with us. I thought maybe she could, you know, help.” He looked at Emma a little sheepishly. “If you want to, obviously.”

“I’d-“

Dean balled his fists, anger radiating through his entire body. “No, she doesn’t want to! Are you serious right now, Sammy?”

“Dean, I can speak for myself.” She said firmly. “I get that closing the gates of hell might get a little dangerous. I’ve been a hunter for half my life. I’m not some helpless baby, I can handle myself. I’ve been hunting alone for the last year and I’m still alive. I want to help.” She said, mainly to Sam. “Hell, even if I can’t do anything more than read a few books and point you in the right direction, I want to be doing something. What the fuck else am I gonna do?” She slid long fingers around one of Dean’s wrists, eyes on his, waiting for him to relax. He looked at her for a long time, jaw clenched, wishing he could tell her exactly why this couldn’t work, why she should get out and away from them while she had the chance. He sighed and forced his fingers to straighten out. She squeezed his palm once before letting go.

“Your funeral.” He muttered, finally. She beamed up at him before turning back to Sam.

“Please say you covered my food, I’m starving.”

“Foil wrapped freshness, in the oven. Should still be warm.” He smiled at her. 

“Fuck yes. How was it?”

“Freakin’ amazing, thanks. I swear Dean almost came in his pants.” Sam laughed.

“And you definitely did, am I right? Still sticky?” Dean snickered behind her. “And on that note, I’m going to eat.” She shrugged off Dean’s coat and handed it back to him before making her way to the kitchen.

As soon as he deemed she was out of earshot, Dean rounded on Sam. “What the hell were you thinking, telling her about slamming the gates? You’re gonna get us killed!”

“I don’t see how having extra help with closing the gates can get us killed any easier than doing it alone.”

“If she tells-”

“Why would she tell, Dean? _Who_ would she tell?” Sam raised his eyebrows.

“Any demon that can get hands on her? Crowley, for Christ’s sake.” Dean was pacing again.

“Crowley doesn’t even know about her.”

“And when he finds out? She’ll be first on his list.”

“He’s not going to get to her.”

“He got Kevin! How is she gonna be any harder to get hold of?” Dean gestured in the direction of the kitchen.

Sam shrugged. “Then the safest place for her is here. She already knows. Maybe it was bad judgement on my part-“

Dean pulled a face. “Ya think?”

“- but I needed to talk to somebody, Dean. Someone who’s not going through it too.” He added before Dean could object.

“Well you just _brought_ her into it.” Dean threw his arms out to his sides. “How is she even going to be able to help? We’re pretty much relying on Kevin to do the reading.”

Sam sucked in a breath and huffed it back out, thinking. “She’s an extra pair of eyes, at the very least. You can’t deny having back-up will help, especially with Cas AWOL. Who knows what we’re going to have to do for this?”

He had a point. Again. Dean changed tack. “Why you so eager to have her around, anyway?” He sat down now, anger dissipated.

Sam gave a short laugh. “I like her, I guess. And she’s good at what she does. We’ve been setting up an archive for the stuff we’ve got down here- aaand I can see you’re losing interest, so I also think having her around will do you good.”

Dean was about to get up for a beer, but that stopped him. “What?”

“You heard me. You went to purgatory. I know that wasn’t easy on you, and now we’re trying to close hell. Forever. I can’t see that being a walk in the park. Maybe it’s time you caught a break.”

Dean had been hoping to avoid a conversation like this. He rolled his eyes. “And you think _she’s_ it?” He stood up and went to the mini fridge for beer. 

“I don’t know, Dean. She could be, if you’ll let her.” He peered up into his brother’s face as he handed him a beer, trying to read his expression. Dean kept his face carefully still. “Look, man, I know after… everything, you don’t think you can have anything normal, but who knows? What about when this is all over, and we don’t have to worry about hell anymore?”

Dean narrowed his eyes. “You seriously think that, what, we’re gonna slam the gates, hold hands and skip off into the sunset together?”

“No, but-“

“I think you’re getting ahead of yourself here, Sammy.” Dean took a too-large swig of beer in an attempt to look as nonchalant as he sounded and tried not to choke.

“Maybe.” He was still studying Dean’s face. “But I think I’m pretty close to the mark.”

“Look, I hardly know the girl, alright?” He blinked and took another sip. That much was definitely true. It was the fact he wanted to change that that bothered him. What in the fuck was going on with him? What had happened to the Dean that’d be out the door before the sweat on his back even dried? He glanced up and saw Sam was still looking at him. “Dude, what?”

“Nothing.” Sam smirked and drank some of his own beer. Dean gave him a dirty look and stood up. 

“I’m going to my room.”

“Okay.” He was still smiling. Dean made himself walk away quickly, worried that if he had to look at that smug face for any longer he’d _have_ to punch it.

Sam drummed his fingers on the table, smile gone already. His mind was back on Amelia. He tried not to think about her now, the wound was still fresh, and it hurt too much to poke at it. ‘Both feet in’, Dean had said. And when he’d chosen his brother and the job, he knew that it was over between them. He didn’t regret his decision, not really. But whenever he thought of life after the gates were shut, it was still her he pictured himself with. He sighed. One day at a time, right?


	7. Chapter 7

Dean didn’t come back out of his room, and Emma could tell from the look on Sam’s face when she came back from the kitchen that they’d had some kind of argument in her absence. She sat with him for a while, and they made a little progress on their computerised archive until her eyes started feeling fuzzy and she yawned, stretching her hands high over her head and almost toppling her chair over backwards. Sam guffawed as she righted herself, a little embarrassed. She bid him goodnight and made her way down the hall, stopping for a few seconds outside Dean’s room, wondering whether to knock. She raised a fist, ready to rap her knuckles on his door, wondering how exactly she was supposed to deal with this.

He’d always been somewhat of a mystery to her, usually when she’d met up with him on a job he’d been all business until it was over. Then they’d fuck savagely, leaving marks on each other that would stay for days and sometimes weeks. He’d typically been distracted afterward, and more often than not would leave soon after, which she’d been fine with since she wasn’t one for cuddling or post-coital chats. It was a nice arrangement – sometimes they’d text each other about jobs if there was something interesting but too far away for them to get to, but rarely anything more. 

That is, except for the last two times – once a few months after he’d come back from hell and the last when the angels had been hounding him to be Michael’s vessel - when he’d opened up a little. However nice it was to feel like he’d trusted her enough to confide about something so personal, it had scared her at the same time. It had probably scared him too; she’d not heard from Dean at all in the last two years, and the year before that all she’d gotten from him was a quick text for a heads up on a job in Nevada.

Something about him was changed this time; the way he was being with her was completely different. She’d put two and two together and assumed it was probably something to do with Lisa. Sam hadn’t talked much about her, wanting to keep Dean’s privacy, mostly, but he had told her how Dean had quit hunting for a whole year and spent it with her and her son. She was surprised to find that, when he’d told her, she’d felt a little jealous. Mostly because it must have been amazing not having to deal with monsters every day, but also because of the whole family thing. 

She knew as a hunter, her life expectancy was unlikely to stretch much past forty, and she’d vowed at age 15, when she and Daniel had come home to find their mothers and her sisters torn to pieces on the kitchen floor, that she would never bring a child into a world where that could happen. Sure, the kid (Ben?) hadn’t been Dean’s, not really, but Sam said he may as well have been. It must have taken everything he had to walk away from that, and now Sam had done the same. They’d done it for each other, and she got that – she’d have done anything for Dan before he died. She’d never had more than a month off the job, didn’t know if she was capable of stopping and just being, and she definitely didn’t know if she was capable of being _with_ someone. Though if there was anyone she could see herself with it would be Dean, in all his fucked-up glory.

She lowered her hand. She couldn’t go there tonight. She wasn’t ready to talk – wasn’t even sure there was anything to talk _about_. She turned away and went to her room, glancing back at his door once before going inside and settling down for the night.

The next day, she was filling syringes with dead man’s blood and slipping them into a case when Dean came into her room and closed the door. She turned to look at him, and when he didn’t say anything for a few seconds, rolled her eyes and turned back.

“Look-“ He began, fingers drumming nervously on his palms as he took a step forward.

“Whatever you’re going to say, can it wait ‘til after the nest?” She turned and cocked an eyebrow at him.

He huffed out a breath, equal parts annoyed she’d interrupted him and grateful she’d given him more time. “I guess.”

“Good, cause I’ve been hunting these fuckers for weeks and they keep moving. I wanna get in there before they skip town completely.” She considered him for a moment, then turned back and flipped the cover over the vials. She shoved them into the pocket of her coat, sweeping past Dean and out of the door. The fuck happened to all business?

It was midday when they pulled up outside the run down house, low winter sun pressing resolutely through thin, hazy clouds. It wasn’t the best weather for if things went wrong, but it would do. Vampires would rarely follow anyone out into the sunlight, even weak rays like this. Based on what Cas had said, and Emma’s research, there were around six vamps holed up inside. Their leader was one of the few that survived the Leviathan’s poisoning and had been working on building a coven of young, attractive women that she’d guessed he was going to use for further recruitment - like it wasn’t gross enough already.

“Front or back?” She asked, tying her hair back securely. “And don’t you dare say ‘both if I can get it’, Dean.” She cut him a look. He’d opened his mouth to say exactly that, and he closed it again, grinning. Sam rolled his eyes.

They all unsheathed their weapons, and Dean led the way in. The dark inside was murky and close, and Emma wrinkled her nose at the smell of decaying wood and fungus. They must have been expecting hunters, and the first vamp announced herself with a snarl, throwing herself at Dean as he slid around a doorway. He ducked and kicked out, sending her sprawling to the ground. She grabbed at his ankle and almost pulled him down but Sam lunged forward and decapitated her with one downward swing of his machete. 

"That was easy." Dean said, grinning and kicking away the head. It thumped dully against the wall, and another three vamps hurtled out of the gloom, fangs bared, screeching threats. Dean was closest and took one out as she ran, stepping out of the way as her headless body crashed into the wall. One of them grabbed Sam around the throat and hurled him bodily against the wall, his head made a sickening crack as it dented the plaster. His eyes rolled back into his head as her grip on his neck tightened, but Emma swung hard, two handed, and took off her head too. She caught Sam before he fell, nearly going down too as his full weight rested on her. She let him slide down the wall and whirled to help Dean, who had pinned the other vamp underneath him but lost his machete. She threw him hers, which he caught and brought down on the vamp's neck in one motion and she picked up Dean’s blade, running back to Sam as he groaned.

"You okay?" She asked him. He looked up at her blearily and rubbed his head, bringing his fingers back to his face to check for blood. When there was none, he took her offered hand and stood up. 

"First two minutes of the fight and you're down, Sam?" She said, grinning, holding his arm as he wobbled unsteadily. He laughed and his hand went to his head again as the action sent a painful throb through it. There was a lump forming already and when his fingers ran over it, it sent another blinding stab of pain through his skull. He winced and leant against the wall.

"Maybe you should sit this one out, Sammy. You don't look too good." Dean said, rubbing his forehead with the back of one hand and smearing blood across it. Emma snorted and he looked at his hand and pulled a face, swapping their machetes back again.

“No, I’m good.” Sam said, stepping away from the wall and immediately overbalancing. Emma caught him again and looked at Dean for help.

“You are so _not_ good. Back to the car.” Dean said authoritatively, reaching out and pulling at his brother’s arm. Sam went willingly, head pounding again. They bundled him into the back seat, where he lay with an arm over his eyes, knees pulled up. Dean shut the door behind him and glanced at Emma. 

“Let’s make this quick, I think he’s concussed.” He said gruffly, flicking congealing blood off his machete onto the gravel.

“Four down already.” She said, starting back towards the house. “And he’s gonna need an ice pack at the very least.”

They went back inside, and found another vampire kneeling next to one of the bodies. She looked up at them as they stood in the doorway, blood on her hands, stark white tear streaks on her dirty face.

“Just do it.” She said, voice cracking. Her dirty blonde hair fell over her face as she craned her neck forwards. Emma looked at Dean. He shrugged and stepped forward, machete held ready. The vampire on the floor didn’t make a grab for him, though he had expected that. Instead another vamp stepped out of the shadows behind Emma, seizing her ponytail and pulling her backwards. Dean twisted around at her shout, and the vampire on the floor jumped up and grabbed his arms, immediately joined by another of her sisters. 

“You killed my girls, slut.” The vampire growled into her ear, yanking her right arm hard, holding it tight against her back. The other hand was still fisted in her hair, holding her neck at an awkward angle. She gritted her teeth against the pain. His breath smelt of carrion, and its cloying sweet stench rolled across her face as he spoke, making her stomach boil. He flicked out a pointed tongue and slid it lazily along the skin of her exposed throat. Dean struggled harder against the two holding him, but they just giggled and held him fast. She grimaced and tried to pull away from him, but he pulled her arm up even higher, making spots dance in front of her eyes. “Don’t think I won’t break your arm, ya little bitch. Now, you and your pretty boyfriend here have made me very angry, killing my girls like you have. But I know a way you can make it up to me.” 

His fangs slid out of his gums, and he grinned at Dean, who saw what he was going to do and yelled a split second before he sank his teeth into Emma’s neck. She screamed and kicked back at him, but he held fast, breathing hard as he drank. He pulled back after a few seconds and licked his lips, eyes on Dean’s. He was glaring furiously at him and trying to yank his arms away from the girls holding him, but they were stronger than he was. Blood was oozing from the bite, and she blinked hard, already feeling a little woozy. How much did he take, half a pint? A whole one?

“Now I’m going to take you two upstairs and collect your giant friend from outside. I’m told he’s looking a little under the weather, so I doubt it’ll be much work.” He grinned and winked at Dean. “And then I’m going to turn you all.”

“What happened to hot chicks only? Isn’t that like, your MO? I mean, I get taking her-“

“Thanks!” Emma piped up, grinning despite herself.

“Don’t mention it.” He winked. “But why us too?”

“Because!” He dropped Emma’s arm and shoved her into the wall, where she fell heavily to her knees, still dizzy. He leaned into Dean until their noses were almost touching. “Because you fucks have destroyed everything I’ve been working for these last few months. Because you are going to help me get us back on our feet. Because-“ His eyes widened as the tip of a syringe punched into the side of his neck. 

The vampires holding Dean both screamed “Daddy!” at the same time, as Emma pulled it back out and kicked him against the wall, where he slid, boneless, to the ground. 

“Why do they always fucking talk so much?” She said, another syringe already in hand. She managed to get it into the upper arm of one of the women holding Dean, and she dropped too – the blonde that had been the bait - but the other still had Dean and had dragged him backwards by the neck. He was scrabbling along with her, almost all his weight resting on her fingers. She bared her fangs, hissing at Emma as she advanced on them, machete in hand. The vamp’s grip tightened with every step she took towards her and Dean, so she stopped moving and raised her hands. His face was reddening as he reached for his machete, which had been thrown to the ground when they’d first grabbed him and was now only an inch away from his fingers. Emma tried to talk her out of noticing. “You are literally in a corner, lady. Give it up.”

“You hurt our Daddy!” She cried helplessly. Emma made a face.

“Ugh.” Dean managed to get out, fingers brushing the edge of the handle. 

“What he said. He’s not your _Daddy_ , he’s on a vampire repopulation mission. Or he was, at least.” Emma gestured at him with her machete. The girl looked around desperately, her grip loosening for half a second, enough for Dean to gasp in a breath and get a grip on the machete. He swung it up behind his head blindly, falling on his ass as she let go of his neck. There was a beat of silence and he looked up. Emma didn’t seem to be able to choose an appropriate facial expression, so he turned and saw that his machete was buried diagonally in the eye socket and forehead of the dark haired vampire. She had reached up and was pulling at it weakly.

“The fuck, Dean.” She said, voice wavering somewhere between queasy and amused.

“Oh god.” He said, throwing himself to his feet and backing up a step. “I…I really didn’t mean for that to-“

The vampire yanked harder at the machete and a jelly-like goo slid from her eye socket. “I’m going to be sick.” Emma groaned.

Feeling a little nauseous himself, he pulled Emma’s weapon from her loose grasp and quickly ended the vamp’s misery. He steeled himself, put a foot on the severed head and tried to yank his machete out of her face. There was a screech of metal on bone, but the blade hardly moved. “Wow, that’s really in there, huh.”

Emma retched a little and turned back to the hallway. The vampires she’d dosed with dead man’s blood were stirring. The blood must have been too old or something, to wear off so quickly. “Dean?” There was a loud crunch and a wet squelch. She closed her eyes as another wave of nausea rolled through her.

He’d moved up beside her, looking a little pale. “I don’t really need that machete anyway.” His throat moved as he handed her back her weapon. “Don’t look. It’s not pretty.”

“I’ve seen some really fucked up shit, Dean, but-“

“Watch out.” He warned. The vampire leader had staggered back to his feet, and was growling at them. Emma moved forward as he lunged and stabbed him through the stomach with her machete.

“That’s for calling me a slut, you sack of shit.” She spat. She kicked him back against the wall and slammed the edge of the blade into his neck, taking his head almost the whole way off. She chopped again and it stretched on one sinew for a second, then fell heavily to the ground. She wrenched the machete out of the plaster and turned, blood splattered across her face. She offered it and Dean took it, turning to take care of the girl on the floor.

“Make sure you get this one in the neck.” Emma said mildly, pulling a wad of tissues out of her coat and pressing one to the bite. It had almost stopped bleeding, but it’d need cleaning. He gave her a scathing look before swinging the blade down expertly and severing the vamp’s head.

“Is that all of them?” He asked, wiping it off on the dead girl’s blouse and handing it back. She sheathed it on her thigh holster. 

“Think so.”

They did a sweep anyway, splitting up to cover more ground. Neither of them found anything, just some dirty cots in the basement. It didn’t look like they’d had time to catch any humans for food, thankfully, though one room looked as if it were being set up as a pen. When they stepped back into the daylight, she pulled out another tissue and handed him one, wiping at the blood on her face, watching him do the same.

“Your neck is bruised.” She said, touching the purpling skin gently, making him wince. They looked at each other for a moment, and then he was kissing her, hard and long, arms circling her waist.

“Ow.” They said at the same time as they pulled away, various aches hitting them as the adrenaline drained from their systems. She grinned at him and moved somewhat reluctantly out of his grip. “We’d better check on Sam.”


	8. Chapter 8

He was still lying in the same position he’d been in when they left him, but he lifted his arm as the doors opened and they climbed in. “Oh good, you’re both still alive.” He said, pulling himself slowly into a sitting position and making a face as pain pulsed through his head again.

“Here.” Emma said, pulling her backpack from the back of the car and rummaging in it. She produced a bottle of water and some paracetamol and handed them back to Sam, who took them gratefully. 

“Well aren’t you just a regular Mary Poppins.” Dean said, laughing as he started the engine. She just raised her eyebrows and shrugged, wetting a fresh tissue with another bottle and pressing it to her neck. They told Sam what had happened as they made their way back to the bunker, though he stopped them at the graphic description of the vampire with the machete in her face, paling visibly. 

When they got in, Sam went to lie down and Dean and Emma headed to the showers. They shared one this time, red-tinted water rolling off their skin and down the drain as soon as they stepped under the flow. Emma’s wrist was already bruised from where Castiel had grabbed her in the warehouse, but it was worse since the vampire had yanked her arm around and even flexing the fingers of her right hand hurt now. At her request, Dean washed her back carefully, making sure not to get soap in her wound. She closed her eyes and let him work. When he was done she returned the favour clumsily with her left hand, almost dropping the sponge a few times. 

“I still can’t believe that fucker actually bit me.” She complained when they’d finished, standing in front of the mirror in a towel with her first aid kit on the counter in front of her. She pulled out the antibacterial liquid and undid the cap, wincing as the action sent a spasm of pain up her arm. She put some on a cotton pad and dabbed at the bite gingerly, hissing through her teeth the whole time. 

“He was gonna turn us all.” Dean pointed out. “You’re lucky he didn’t open a vein in your mouth.”

“True.” She said, laying a gauze pad awkwardly over the bite and fumbling with the tape. He took it from her and repositioned the pad, tearing off tape and sticking it down with well-practiced movements.

“I got turned once.” He said, glancing up at her in the mirror.

“You did?” She turned to look at him. He wondered what had made him say that as her eyes searched his. 

“Yeah… It was actually kind of a similar thing, only they were recruiting for an army.”

“And they chose you?” She raised her eyebrows. He pulled a face.

“They wanted me as a recruiter. Picking up chicks that were way too into Twilight.”

“Christ.” She said, a strange look crossing her face. “How did you, you know, turn back?”

“Apparently there’s a cure, so long as you don’t feed.”

“That must have been an experience.”

“You could say that.” He grimaced, remembering the way his throat had burned with thirst. “I did take them all out on my own though, I was a pretty badass vamp.” He grinned. 

She laughed, wrapping a bandage around her tender wrist. “I’ll bet.” He finished securing the gauze and smoothed it down gently. “Thanks.” She said, shoving the bottles and unused packets of gauze back into the bag. When she turned around he’d gone again. She closed her eyes in exasperation. Guy must have been taking lessons on how to end a conversation from his angel friend. She went and got changed before going back to his room and knocking on the door. He hesitated for a few seconds before telling her to come in.

She stood as he had earlier that day, both hands behind her as she closed the door, looking at him. He was sitting on the edge of the bed in a t-shirt and boxers, fiddling with an old journal. “About earlier-“ She started.

“You know the guy who wrote this?” He held up the book. “Didn’t even die on the job. He made it to sixty, and got hit by a horse and carriage.” He looked at it thoughtfully.

“Okay…But about earlier.”

“Do we really have to do this now?” He said, turning and looking at her.

She raised her hands and stepped forward. “Hey, you’re the one that started it. I don’t exactly wanna have to sit here and talk about my feelings either, so we may as well get it over with.”

“Is that what you thought it was about?” He asked, smirking. She knitted her eyebrows.

“Yeah, I do. Cause you practically burst a blood vessel yesterday when Sam said he’d told me about what you guys have been doing, and I don’t think it’s all because you think I’m going to fuck things up. I know you argued after I went to eat. Sam didn’t say anything but you’d holed yourself up in here all night, it was pretty obvious.” She walked around to his desk and leant on it so they were directly in front of each other and folded her arms, waiting. He looked back at the journal for a second before putting it on the bed next to him.

“Sam’s a dumbass, that’s all.” He said, hardly meeting her eyes.

“Is it that you don’t want me around? I know we haven’t spent much time together before.” Her fingers were rubbing her ribs again, so she balled her fists until it hurt.

“No, I just… People around us have a habit of dying.”

“Seems to me that’s just a hazard of the job.” 

“Yeah, well, multiply that hazard by ten thousand when me and Sammy are involved.”

“I guess most hunters don’t spend much time hanging round with angels and working jobs that involve closing hell forever.” She laughed. “You guys always did seem special.”

He snorted derisively. “Special? Cursed is closer to the mark.”

She rolled her eyes. “Stop being so melodramatic. Besides, I’m not gonna die. Not yet, anyway; I gotta see how this all turns out, and I’m a stubborn fucker.” She smiled, and when he didn’t smile back, huffed down on the bed next to him. “Look, I get that you’re worried, but I can hold my own. And we’ve always worked well together on jobs, right?” He nodded a little. His fears had been somewhat lessened by today’s hunt – he could see she hadn’t lost her touch, at least. They sat there for a few minutes in silence, Emma’s hands twisting in her lap.

“What about, you know…us?” He grimaced as he spoke, hating that he even felt he had to say it.

She weighed up her words carefully before she replied. “Honestly, I don’t know, Dean. I guess we just take it as it comes. You know, this is probably the longest amount of time we’ve spent together? We’ve not killed each other yet, so I’m taking that as a good sign.”

He laughed. “There’s still time – Kevin hasn’t even figured out how to close the gates yet.”

“As if you could kill me, anyway.” She said, looking at him sideways.

“I could take you down in seconds, lady.”

“Oh yeah?” She said, turning towards him and arching an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I think so.” He said, grinning as she twisted and threw a leg over his, straddling him.

She leant down until their lips were almost touching, his hands sliding around to her ass. “I think you’re too easily distracted.” She said mildly.

“When this is the distraction?” He said, pulling her closer and kissing her. He tightened his grip and flipped her over so she was beneath him. “And I could definitely take you down.” She giggled but he cut it off, kissing her again. She slid her hands under his shirt, not caring that her wrist tinged in protest as she did so. His skin was soft and warm and still a little damp from the shower. She tugged at the hem, and he knelt up so she could pull it over his head. 

While she was sitting, he took advantage and pulled her t-shirt off too before pushing her back down and working off her jeans. He settled back between her legs and kissed along her jaw and down the unbitten side of her neck. Her back arched and he ground their hips together, eliciting a quiet moan. 

He kissed further down her chest, hands running up her sides, making her skin tingle. He reached underneath her and unclasped her bra, pulling it off and looking at her for a few seconds. She shifted under his gaze, still a little uncomfortable when he looked at her scars, and slid her hands up his arms as he bent his head to kiss between her breasts. She let her head fall back to the pillow as his lips ghosted across the skin, tongue finding her nipple and circling it. She gripped his arm tighter as he bit gently on it, rolling it in his teeth, a soft keening noise slipping from her throat as he did so. 

He continued to kiss down her stomach, hands roaming the rest of her body as he licked and bit at the sensitive skin. She twisted beneath him, impatient as ever. He moved deliberately slower, teeth and lips grazing lazily over her pelvic bones, causing a rush of sensations to pulse through her. He kissed along the line of her underwear, and her stomach tightened, but he moved past them and his lips went up her thigh instead. He reached her knee and saw that it was bruised from where she’d been pushed down earlier. He kissed the purple mark gently and slid both palms up her inner thighs, one thumb almost, but not quite slipping into her underwear as he brought them back over her stomach and kissed her. 

She almost swore – why did he always have to tease? There was something of an ache developing inside her now, and she was already soaking wet. He was running his fingers along her legs again and she pushed her hips up into his, another moan escaping her lips as she succeeded in pushing her clit against his hard cock through their underwear, but as she rocked into him again he pulled his hips back, denying her even that contact. She tugged on his lip with her teeth and he pulled away, smirking, moving back down her body and hooking his fingers around her underwear. She lifted her hips a little so he could pull them off. 

She’d shaved the day before and he could see her tattoo now, much smaller than his own, just above and to the left of where her slit began. He ran a thumb over the inked skin, and she shuddered, her pulse quickening, eyes shut tight. His lips went to her thigh again, kissing up and closer to where she was desperate for him to touch. He hovered over her for a second, waiting for her to open her eyes. When she did, they looked at each other for a second before his gaze slipped down, and slowly slid his tongue up along where her outer lips met. She did swear then, and his eyes flicked up to hers for a second as he pressed a little further and the very tip of his tongue touched her clit. She stopped breathing when he did it a second time, her entire body tensing.

Slowly he brought the fingers of one hand up to spread her further and focused his attention back. He pushed the flat of his tongue against her clit, then brought it down and licked up from her hole almost to the tattoo. He did it again, using the same broad, long stroke, tasting her, and her legs began to shake. He looked up and saw she was still watching him. He sucked hard on her, wriggling his tongue at the same time, and she moaned loudly. He went back to licking at her with broad strokes, focusing on her clit now, lips and tongue working against her. She brought a hand to his head and fisted it almost painfully in his hair, which along with her wriggling hips and the way she was whispering his name over and over like some desperate prayer was making him extremely aware of his own need. He gripped her hips with both hands and pulled her closer, upping the speed of his tongue. Her hips tried to buck but he held fast as her orgasm started, slowing but not stopping as her body shook and convulsed under his hands.

She was panting hard as he moved back to kiss her, his hands in her hair, her hands trying to touch him everywhere at once, sliding over his back, his arms, grabbing at his ass. She pulled at his boxers almost desperately, only able to get them down a few inches. She pushed a hand between them and her fingers brushed against his cock, he groaned against her mouth as she managed to wrap her hand around the head. He moved back to pull off his boxers, then brought his hips down and pressed against her, sliding up through the wetness his tongue had left, rolling the underside of his shaft over her clit until she bit hard on his lower lip.

“Dean.” She pleaded, as he rested on his elbows. He brushed away a curl that was stuck to the sweat on her forehead and kissed her again, lightly, tongue darting across her lips for a second before he looked back into her eyes. She looked up at him, wondering why he was looking at her like that, with such a soft look in his eyes. At least she wondered until his hips shifted and she felt him pressing against her entrance. She tilted her hips and he pushed in, slowly, sweat breaking out on his back already as her warm wetness closed tight around the head of his cock. 

He rocked his hips infinitesimally, hardly going in any further, relishing the sensation. Her grip on his back tightened, and he slid in further, eyes still on hers. Her eyebrows knitted and she bit hard on her lip, not even wanting him to go faster this time. Whatever this was, the feeling of him sinking slowly into her was almost overwhelming. 

She brought a hand to his neck and pulled him down so that their lips met. He continued his slow progress until they were pressed fully together, rocking their hips together. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and he ground into her in circles. She moaned into his mouth and he kissed and bit at her lips, neck, jaw, as her hips jerked up to meet his. Her nails raked down his back, leaving hot red trails.

As much as it felt amazing, he couldn’t go slow after that. He lifted himself a little and pulled her legs from around his back, hooked his elbows around the back of her knees and pinned them either side of her, thrusting hard and deep. The skin of her chest was flushed and sweaty, and she was gripping tight to his forearms, nails digging in as she began to come, slamming through her with a sudden warm, heavy rush. She didn’t even make a noise, her mouth was open and he licked into it, grinning as she shuddered and cursed, kissing him back urgently.

After she came again, he pulled out and flipped her onto her stomach, his legs either side of hers. He slid his hands down her back and round the curve of her hips and ass, the warmth of her damp skin seeping into his palms. She wriggled impatiently under his hands and he pressed against her again, curling the fingers of one hand around her neck and turning her head to kiss her. She gasped as he pushed into her again, and he let go of her neck to grip her waist, fucking her almost frenziedly. She cursed loudly into the pillow and arched her back, pushing her ass up, giving him better access. He groaned as her felt her tighten around him again, the pace of his hips quickening, losing rhythm as his orgasm started. 

He came hard, with a low growl, his fingers digging into her skin. She turned her head to breathe and he leant down to kiss her before pulling out and releasing his grip. His hands had left white impressions on her sides, and he kissed those too, before rolling onto his back and puffing out a contented breath. She rolled onto her side and pressed closer to him, kissing up his jaw and to his mouth. He kissed back sleepily and she leant an elbow on his chest, watching him watch her through lidded eyes. After a few seconds he pulled her to him for a kiss, then let go and closed his eyes, soft smile sliding from his face as he fell asleep. She stopped herself from staring at his eyelashes and lifted herself off him, standing up and pulling on her t shirt. 

While Dean slept, she went and showered again before checking on Sam. He was lying in bed, typing on the laptop. The ice pack was on his bedside table. 

“How you feeling?” She asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Like a vampire slammed my head into a wall.” He said, grinning. She laughed. “Honestly, better than I was.”

“You hungry?” She asked, checking her watch. “I know it’s early, but I was thinking Chinese later?” 

“Sounds good.” He said. “Hey, can you get me another of these? This one’s warm now.” She stood up to get the ice pack and nodded. “Um…”

She turned again and looked at him. “What?”

“I just…Are you and Dean okay?” He furrowed his brow. “He was kind of an asshole yesterday.”

She laughed. “He was. I don’t know, I think so. I think he thinks we need to have a talk about where this is all going.”

“Don’t you?” He asked, sitting up a little higher on the bed.

“I…” She sat back down and looked over at him. “Sam, he’s being _weird_ with me. You know what he’s always been like, any excuse not to stick around any longer than absolutely necessary. And honestly I was fucking cool with that! That worked for me. And now…Now he’s different. And I don’t know what the fuck to think.”

He nodded. “I noticed that too. I think he, you know, kind of likes you.”

She grimaced. “Are we twelve now?” 

He grinned. “No, but it’s true. He just has a…funny way of showing it.”

“You’re telling me.” She remembered the way he’d looked at her. Maybe not that funny.

“I think maybe you should give it a go.” Sam said, as if that settled matters.

She nearly choked. “Sorry?” Sam guffawed, their reactions were so similar he couldn’t help it.

“I think if you both cut the crap-“ She narrowed her eyes at him, but he just grinned and continued. “You guys could work. He thinks he can’t have any normal relationship because of the job. Well, you’re in the business too. That’s gotta count for something.”

She sighed and closed her eyes. “I think you’re-“

“Getting ahead of myself? Yeah, that’s what he said.” Sam laughed again, hard enough to hurt his head this time. He grimaced and she stood up.

“I’m going to get you another ice pack.” She almost ran out of the room, suddenly feeling extremely uncomfortable. So Sam thought they should be together. And he’d spoken to Dean about it. She felt a little nauseous. She couldn’t deny that having him around hadn’t been really fucking good the last few days, and that she hadn’t been trying extremely hard not to think of him as anything more than a great fuck since the last time she’d seen him. But actually faced with the prospect of being with him, properly, that was too much of a commitment, right? It had only been a few days. Sure, they’d known each other for years. Probably fucked on a dozen separate occasions, but was that enough for the basis of a relationship? She didn’t know; she’d never actually had one. She shook her head as she dawdled along the corridor to the kitchen. No, probably not.

“Oh, hey.” 

She nearly jumped out of her skin as she rounded the corner and saw Dean, grinning over his shoulder at her fright as he rummaged through the fridge. He pulled out a plate of chicken drumsticks and set it on the counter, then went back for a beer.

“Do you actually ever drink anything that’s not alcoholic?” She asked, moving closer on legs that felt like jelly. What the hell was that about? She flexed her toes, as if that was going to help.

“Nope.” He said, taking a bite and watching as she put the warm ice pack back and retrieved another from the freezer compartment. She seized his beer, twisted off the top and took a swig, jumping back when he made a grab for it. He glared at her and got another. She watched him strip another bite off the leg, fingers drumming on the cool glass. 

“So I spoke to Sam.” She said, her voice wavering a little. She cleared her throat. This was fucking stupid. It was just Dean; she’d fucked him less than an hour ago, why the fuck was she so shakey all of a sudden?

“Yeah?” He focused his attention on his beer bottle, twisting the cap off slowly and keeping his eyes on it while he took a drink.

It all rushed out at once. “Fucking hell, Dean. Okay, look. I like having you around, and I always have. I was fine with you fucking me and fucking walking out five minutes later. But now I feel like everything’s got a little out of hand because I just…I don’t think I’d be okay with that anymore. Like what the hell was that, just now? I don’t know, I feel weird.” She sat down and drained nearly half of the bottle in one gulp. He stood in silence for a minute, unsure how to respond. Was there a response to that? Did it need one?

“I, uh...”

“And Sam thinks we should be together, which is stupid. That’s stupid right? Because we’ve only been here for a few days and like, I’ve known you for a long time, but we’ve hardly ever sat down and just _talked_ , have we? We mostly fuck, which is cool with me, because you know, that part’s amazing but-“

He held up a hand, trying not to laugh. “Okay, stop. Breathe. This is what I mean when I said Sam’s an idiot.” She huffed out a breath and covered her face with a hand. He pulled it gently away. “If you’re going to be staying here while Kevin translates the tablets and we do whatever we gotta to slam these gates, then that’s awesome. I mean it. We’ll have all the freaking time in the world to talk, okay? And fuck, obviously.” He winked and she laughed, feeling like an idiot.

“Wow, even I don’t know what happened there…” She said, a little dazed by her own outburst.

“I think you tripped a wire or something, I thought you were malfunctioning.” He grinned, realising he was still holding her hand and letting go gently. “Look, like you said earlier, when I still thought you were kinda cool-“ She laughed again, flushing a deep pink. “We’ll just see how it goes.”


	9. Chapter 9

A few days later, after yet another uncomfortable night with only one pillow between them in Dean’s room, Emma went to her room and fetched hers. 

“Why you only have one pillow in your bed is beyond me, but if I’m gonna be sleeping in it I feel like I should at least get one to myself. Your arm isn’t as comfortable as you seem to think it is.” Dean laughed and she hit him with the pillow on her way to plop it down at the head of the bed. “Are you ever gonna decorate in here?”

“Maybe one day. Is this the equivalent of sneaking your toothbrush in with mine?” He said, still grinning. She gave him a withering look.

“I’m already living with you, dumbass, I don’t need to sneak anything in. I’m not gonna fuck up my neck just for the pleasure of your company at night.”

He raised his eyebrows. “But you admit my company is pleasurable?”

“In certain ways.” She smirked. He grabbed her good wrist and pulled her to him for a kiss. There was always something about that smirk that made him want to do that. She pressed her body against his, relishing the warmth of him, the rasp of his stubble on her face, the ever-present taste of beer in his mouth. 

In the next two weeks, they didn’t spend a night apart. When Dean went to get Kevin more supplies – alone, he still didn’t think it was a good idea for Emma to meet him, just in case – and ended up staying too late to drive back, he napped for a few hours in the car and came home in the early morning to find her curled up in his bed, still asleep. He undressed and slid in with her. She murmured and woke enough to kiss him and press her back into his chest before sleeping again. He dozed too, much more comfortable than he’d been in the Impala.

When Sam woke, he took the car into town, bought today’s and yesterday’s newspapers and settled down in the diner to check for any likely cases. He found what looked like a possible shapeshifter job a few towns over; the guy had supposedly held up a convenience store but was swearing he’d been elsewhere. He folded the paper on the page of the story and pocketed it, finishing his coffee and eggs before setting back.

When he got in, he found them kissing in the kitchen, Emma on the counter with Dean standing between her legs. Thankfully they were clothed this time – he’d had the unfortunate experience of walking in on them very _not_ clothed in the shower room a few days ago (the shower wasn’t even on, he’d thought it was safe) and still hadn’t quite gotten over it.

“Guys, we cook in here.” Sam said, pulling a face. Emma bit her lip to keep from laughing. “Anyway, I think I found a case about an hour from here… Could you at least move?” They were still pressed together, though she had lowered her arms from his neck when Sam walked in. 

Dean looked at Emma, eyes sparkling in amusement, then back at Sam. “I don’t think you want me to move, Sammy.” She burst into laughter and Sam groaned.

“We’ll need suits and fed badges. And… just don’t have sex in here, okay? It’s gross.” He turned and strode back to his room to get changed. He kind of regretted wishing they’d get back to how they were before – they were worse now than they had been – he didn’t need the daily mental scarring. He was glad to see that Dean seemed happier, though. He’d had it rougher than usual recently, with purgatory and the whole mess with Benny and now Cas’ disappearance, but he seemed to have mostly forgiven Sam for not looking for him now. That was something, at least. He even enjoyed having Emma around, though she’d apparently decided he could now take the kind of insults she threw at Dean, and after she’d found out Crowley’s name for him from Dean a few nights before had also taken to calling him Moose, much to his annoyance.

“C’mon.” Emma said, pushing Dean back so she could slide off the counter. “I haven’t seen you in a suit yet. This should be interesting.” She cocked her head to the side and squinted at him, trying to picture it. He was always in jeans and shirts, jackets slightly too big for him; they’d never actually worked a case together where they’d needed to play dress up. 

He nodded and smirked. “I look good in a suit.” 

She laughed as she walked away. “If you can look good in that robe, I don’t doubt it.”

He looked down at the robe and shrugged to himself. He didn’t see what was wrong with it. Sure, it had once belonged to a guy who was now dead, and sure it was a little long, but apparently it had the added bonus of hiding boners, and that just made it better in his eyes.

By the time she’d found her suit (she didn’t remember leaving it in the laundry room, but after searching hers and Dean’s rooms that was where she found it) and scraped her hair into a professional-looking bun, the brothers were already waiting for her out by the map table.

“Ugh, I knew it. Looks like you two just escaped from a magazine photoshoot.” She said, coming down the stairs awkwardly in a pair of patent stilettos she hardly ever wore.

“What’s with the shoes?” Dean asked, grinning, as she clacked over to them. 

“Some fucker decided women don’t look professional unless they’re wearing the most impractical footwear, that’s what’s with them.” She rolled her eyes and turned to Sam. “What’s the job, Moose?”

Sam sighed at the name and started up the stairs. “Shapeshifter, I think. Could be nothing, but we need to talk to the guy first. He’s being held at Stockton sheriff’s office, hence the suits.”

He handed the paper he’d left on the passenger’s seat to Emma when they got to the car, and she scanned through it. “There’s no way we’re gonna be able to explain why three feds are investigating a convenience store hold up.” She said, matter-of-factly. “You two question the guy, and I’ll go see his wife. I’ll take my car.”

Dean watched her sashay awkwardly over to her car, eyebrows up. “Who made her the boss?”

Sam just laughed and climbed into the Impala. They questioned the man, Bill, and he swore he’d been at work when the store was held up. When Dean pointed out that he’d clocked out half an hour before the robbery, he began fidgeting. Under their combined glare, he hurriedly explained that he’d been out of town a ways in a motel with his mistress, and begged them not to tell his wife.

Emma had been getting a similar story from his wife, Amanda, who had been staying at her parents’ house while the trial was arranged, not wanting to go back to their married home. She seemed to be adamant that Bill had in fact, held up the store. She explained that they’d been going through a rough patch and Bill had been a little distant with her for a few weeks leading up to the crime. It was all fairly convincing until she caught her arm on a door handle and half of the skin sheared off. 

There’d been a beat of silence and then the shifter had attacked, knocking Emma to the ground and choking her while she struggled to get her silver knife from her belt. She managed to yank it free and drag it across the shifter’s calf on the upswing, but before she could stab again, she was already up and running. When she tried to chase after her, one of her heels snapped and she twisted her ankle painfully, bringing her to a halt in the middle of the street.

“Jesus motherfuck, ow!” She yelled, kicking off her shoes and startling an old couple who had just tottered to the end of their garden path a few houses down. She smiled sheepishly and stood on one bare foot on the sidewalk, rubbing her ankle with one hand and staring after the fleeing shapeshifter. She reached for her phone and found it wasn’t in her pocket. “Fucking brilliant.” She muttered under her breath, hobbling over to her car, thankful she’d had the foresight to keep a pair of boots in the trunk.

When she limped up to Sam and Dean ten minutes later, suit torn and bun unravelled, she took Sam’s offered hand of support gratefully.

“What happened?” Dean asked, as she hopped around so she could lean against the wall. 

“The wife, she was a shifter too. I should have known, really.” She grimaced in pain. 

“Where is she now?” Sam said, looking around.

“Took off. I think I know where, though. Let’s take your car.” They helped her back to the Impala, and followed her directions to the house Amanda and Bill had shared.

She’d lost her knife, so Sam let her borrow his spare (although it wasn’t silver, it could still do damage) as they skulked through the darkness of the house. They went into the front room and stopped. The walls were covered in newspaper clippings; Marriage announcements, lonely hearts, stabbings, Bill’s armed robbery. They looked at the torn, yellowed pages, trying to make sense of it.

“What the hell?” Dean asked, pulling an obit section down and flapping it.

“Beats me.” Sam replied, fingering a page of personal ads. It all just seemed random, there was certainly no obvious connection between the cuttings.

“Well, these look like trophies.” Emma supplied, indicating in turn to each of the violent stories. “I don’t know about the rest, though.” Sam nodded and pulled a few of the ones she’d pointed to down. While he studied them, Dean looked at her appraisingly.

“You okay?” He asked, reaching out instinctively and tucking an escaped curl behind her ear. 

She watched his hand as he retracted it, then nodded and looked up at him through her eyelashes, a half smile playing on her lips. “Just my leg, really.” 

“Hey, Sam?” Dean said, casually taking half a step backwards. As he spoke, Emma burst through the door, and stood staring at her double for a second before rolling her eyes and throwing her arms out to her sides.

“You didn’t fucking check if it was me?” She said exasperatedly, limping a few steps further into the room. 

“That bitch cloned me!” The Emma next to Dean accused, glancing at Sam who was looking between the two women, trying to decide which of them was actually Emma.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” The Emma by the door said, raising her knife in warning as Sam stepped towards her. “Slow your roll, Moose.” She yanked up her sleeve and hadn’t even pressed the silver to her skin before Dean plunged his own knife into the heart of the Emma closest to him. Her skin hissed and she fell, gasping, to the ground, where she twitched and died.

Emma stared, stunned, at the body for a second before looking up at Dean and narrowing her eyes. “You better have been 110% sure that wasn’t me before you stabbed her.” She said.

“Pretty much.” He replied, eyes on the dead shapeshifter. She raised her eyebrows and waited for him to continue. “I got suspicious when she looked at me weird. Then you bust in and said ‘fuck’ a billion times, so I knew it was you.”

“Well thank fuck for my potty mouth.” She grinned. “But there’s another shifter out there and I busted my ankle.” She hobbled over to the dead shifter and rummaged through her pockets. She'd gone back into the house before finding the guys and still hadn't been able to find her phone, assuming it had fallen from her pocket when 'Amanda' had knocked her down. She produced her cell phone and looked at it. The shifter had apparently been reading her texts; the conversation with Dean was open when she unlocked it. Sneaky.

“Yeah she called me, that’s why we didn’t check.” He said. “How do you know there’s another shifter?”

“Because when I was following your dumb asses to what is clearly a trap-“ She gestured around the room. “I saw the guy from the paper following me, which I thought was a little weird, considering he’s in jail.”

“So where is he?” Sam asked. She shrugged.

“Can’t have been more than a minute behind. No idea.”

Dean indicated toward the door and he and Sam edged towards it, knives raised. Sam went round first and the shifter, who had been sneaking closer to peer around the door, bolted. They chased him to the front door, where Sam collided with him and knocked him to the ground. They dragged him back into the front room, where Emma was now crouching next to the dead shifter and peering at it. She watched as they questioned him. He saw his dead mate and began talking, sobbing the whole time. 

They had spent the last few years taking over the lives of one half of a couple, committing crimes in their bodies and getting them arrested, then taking their money (and likenesses) and moving states, living like that until they aroused suspicion and then they’d start over. They had the real Amanda tied up in a bedroom, and had been about to frame her for a hit and run when Emma had interrupted the shifter in Amanda’s body. Emma went to cut her free, and when she came back found they had killed him. She took one last look at her body on the floor, shook her head and hobbled with Amanda back to her car.

When they’d dropped Amanda off at her parents’ (Sam insisted on driving Emma’s Ford so she wouldn’t hurt her ankle more), buried the bodies of the shifters in the woods and gone back to the bunker, Dean made her sit on his bed while he went to fetch an ice pack for the swelling. She pulled off her boot, wincing as she did so, and poked at it. It fucking hurt, but she guessed it was only a mild sprain since it hadn’t actually swollen that much in the few hours since she’d twisted it.

“That is the last time I wear heels.” She said as Dean came back. He smiled and squatted down to press the ice pack to her ankle.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I liked the way you walked in them. Like Bambi on stilts.”

She laughed. “Fuck you.” He grinned up at her and lifted her legs onto the bed. He bunched a pillow under her injured ankle and bent to kiss her. 

“Keep that elevated.” He ordered, turning and walking towards the door.

“Where are you going?” She asked. “You’re not just gonna leave me here doing nothing, you dick.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I was _going_ to fetch the laptop. You’re out of action; we may as well catch up on Breaking Bad.” Sam had already watched it last year and had practically had a stroke trying to explain how amazing it was – they’d half agreed to watch it just so he didn’t collapse, but now they were hooked.

She beamed at him. “You’re the fucking best, you know that?”

He just chuckled and walked out. He was surprised she thought so; they’d been talking a lot recently – more than he’d thought they would, about everything and nothing. He’d even told her about purgatory, expressing his fears that Benny would go postal now they weren’t in contact. She’d also accidentally overheard him praying to Cas – he’d been doing it practically every night, with no answer. When he’d stopped as she walked in, embarrassed, she’d climbed up behind him on the bed and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his neck, desperate to reassure him but bound by her promise to the angel.

Back in Stockton, evening descended and a young woman walked purposefully up to Bill and Amanda’s house. She looked at the door, sniffing the air, before starting forward, slipping through the back gate and picking up a key from underneath a plant pot on the back porch. She let herself into the house and was hit with the stench of them. Two shapeshifters had died here, but she wasn’t interested in their scents. She breathed in deeply, and there they were. Four fresh human scents - one female smell in particular that she’d been looking for. She smiled bitterly to herself.


	10. Chapter 10

It was nearly Christmas, and Emma insisted they had to at least have a tree. Sam and Dean went out and bought the saddest-looking spindly miniature one they could find; she laughed until she cried when they brought it in. They didn’t have any proper decorations, so they hung pocket knives and broken talismans off its thin, drooping branches.

On the day itself, after half an hour of leisurely sex, Emma presented Dean with a replacement machete, cackling as he scowled at her suggestion he not get it stuck in another monster’s head. They spent the day watching awful horror films and drinking beer, all three of them curled up on the sofa, and ordered take out instead of cooking. It was a good day, and when Emma thought about the contrast between her last Christmas, without Daniel for the first time, alone in a cold motel room with half-healed scars that still pulled whenever she moved, she found herself crying. She excused herself quickly and went to Dean’s room, swiping angrily at her eyes. 

When she didn’t return after five minutes, he went to find her, and found her hunched over on the bed. She looked at him with red eyes and his heart sank. He went and sat next to her, unsure what to do. She leaned into him and when he put his arm around her the tears started again, and she haltingly explained that she missed her cousin. He held her in silence until she stopped shaking, then brushed away her tears with his thumbs and kissed her gently.

“We need more whiskey.” He said simply. She laughed and nodded, wiping her eyes again with her sleeve. She watched him pour them drinks and realised with sudden clarity that she was falling for him. She took a deep breath and smiled shakily as he handed her the drink. Oh fuck.

Two weeks later, her ankle had healed and they worked another job together, a wendigo this time. They saved a couple that had been taken and strung up, and they’d been thanked with enthusiatic hugs. Emma was still laughing about Sam’s face when the woman had first thrown herself at him on the drive home. A week after that, they took out a ghost that had been haunting a local library just in time to stop a teenage kid getting an entire bookshelf toppled onto him. 

Incidentally, he knew he loved her first, when on the morning of his birthday she woke him with his cock in her mouth and held him right on the edge of orgasm for five straight minutes. When he finally came, with a long loud groan, she grinned at him and wished him a happy birthday before kissing him quickly on the lips, telling him he wasn’t allowed in the kitchen for a few hours and practically skipping out of the room.

He stared after her for a full minute, amazed at the realisation. He went to shower and wandered into the main room, where Sam was sitting watching the news on his laptop. 

“Happy birthday.” He chuckled, closing the lid. “Definitely sounded like it, anyway.”

“Fuck you.” Dean laughed, grabbing the pot of coffee Sam had left beside his cup and pouring himself a drink. “So what’d you get me this year, Sammy? Aside from the side-splitting commentary on my sex life?”

“Ah, you’ll have to wait and see.” Sam said. Dean was about to tell him not to be such a dick when a loud crash echoed down the corridor from the kitchen. They looked at each other for a second before jumping up and going to see what had happened.

Sam went in first and was already laughing when Dean walked around the corner and saw the mess. Emma was crouching on the floor, picking up a huge pile of pans she’d knocked off the counter, flour in her hair and on her nose and coating the tiles of a good few square metres of floor. She stood up with the pans in her arms and pushed them back onto the side, scowling at the brothers who were now both laughing. She wiped her hands on her t-shirt and glared at them. 

“Dean, I told you not to come in here.” She scolded, moving to block his view of her cooking. “And Sam, stop fucking laughing! Where’s the brush?”

Sam got the brush and handed it to her, still chortling. Dean peered around her and saw the pie dish.

“Is that what I think it is?” He said, leaning further to see better. 

“No, shh, get out.” She said, flapping her hands at him. He walked in to get a better look and grinned at her. 

“You’re making pie. _You’re_ making pie?” He asked.

“No! Okay, yes. Sam said…you know, it was your favourite, so…” His grin widened and he caught her waist and kissed her, flour and all. Sam laughed as she patted him away, a little flustered. “Okay, well you’ve ruined my surprise, so you can leave now. Go do your brother thing.”

Sam had got him a new toolbox for the car, and was thanked with an ear-to-ear grin and gruff hug. It was late in the morning, but it was unseasonably warm so they went for breakfast and then fishing at the nearest river, sitting contentedly together, listening to the birds chattering in the trees. 

They talked about Kevin and the tablet on the way home, wondering aloud to each other what they’d have to do to close the gates. Sam had been to take him more supplies a few days ago and said he’d got a whole wall full of post it notes and random papers, so it looked like he was actually getting somewhere. Dean was glad; he was getting a little impatient waiting for the kid to come up with something they could use.

When they got back, the whole bunker smelt of baking pie. They both made appreciative noises as the door opened and it wafted over them. She cut them all a slice and served it with cream she’d whipped herself. It was a little too brown around the edges, but Dean still thought it was one of the best damn pies he’d ever tasted.

Later that night she was lying on his chest and playing with his fingers, when he asked her what she thought they’d do when they’d slammed the gates. She considered the question for so long that he thought she’d fallen asleep until she craned her neck to look at him.

“I guess carry on hunting? I mean, sure there won’t be any demons or hellhounds anymore. No more trying to save idiots who make crossroads deals… no offense.” He snorted and she grinned. “But there’s still gonna be vamps and werewolves and wendigos and all the rest of those fuckers left.”

“There’s a lot less of them around since Dick poisoned their food supply, though.” He said. She nodded.

“True. Imagine if we got rid of them all. What the fuck would we do?”

“Sam wants to quit being a hunter.”

“I know, he told me. It’s a shame really, cause what we need in this job is more people who can get concussed two seconds into a fight.” He laughed until he choked, and she watched him, grinning. “But seriously, wouldn’t you quit?” She asked, once he’d composed himself. 

“No. I must be crazy, but no. Not again.”

“Same. Well, I guess I never did stop. But I couldn’t see myself ever not doing it, you know?” He was playing with her hair as she spoke, twirling strands into ringlets with his fingers.

“Yeah, I know. I don’t think he’ll quit, not really. He might become a Man of Letters. That’d be cool.”

“He could be the Giles to your Buffy, how sweet.” She grinned. “He got knocked out a lot, now I think of it. And with all the eye rolling and the sighing and the books, he’s definitely a perfect Giles. Hairier, though.”

He chuckled and she moved up to kiss him, then nestled into his neck. “Are you gonna stick around? You know, when it’s done?” He asked after a while.

She lifted her head to look at him, incredulous. “You’re kidding, right? I’ll stay for as long as you’ll have me.” 

The next day, there was a story in the newspaper Sam fetched that made his heart drop. Amanda, the woman they’d rescued on the shifter case, had been murdered. The story reported an animal attack. The group exchanged looks, and Sam went to investigate at the coroner’s and found she’d been bitten on the wrists and neck. He figured it was probably a vampire, but couldn’t find anything about any other attacks since they’d taken down the nest nearly two months ago, which was unusual. The day after that, the couple they’d saved from the wendigo were found dead too, their throats torn out.

“Is it me, or does this look like a pattern?” Emma said, pacing the room with fingers rubbing at her ribs. 

Dean and Sam both nodded. “If it is, that kid from the library is next.”

They camped outside the kid’s house that night in the Impala, taking turns with the binoculars, but all that happened was a cat knocked over a plastic bag full of empty cans, making them jump.

Emma and Sam went to get them coffees and breakfast while Dean stayed in the car to keep an eye out for the kid. She was grinning to herself as she drank her coffee, waiting for the food. 

“I know that look.” Sam said, smiling himself.

“What look?”

“The look you’ve had all night. All this damn week.” 

“And what look is that?” She asked, raising her eyebrows.

“The look that says I was completely right about you and Dean and you’ve finally realised it.” He crossed his arms and gave her a smug smile.

She laughed. “It’s that obvious, huh?”

“Definitely.” He chuckled, then rolled his eyes. “Finally.”

She grinned up at him and thanked the waitress as she handed her the bags of food. “You’d better keep it shut, Moose.”

He laughed and held the door for her as she marched out. They ate in the car and decided to take turns napping, since it was unlikely anything was going to happen during the day.

“What a crazy life this guy leads.” Dean muttered as they followed him to and from the library without incident. Sam sniggered quietly, since Emma was asleep under their coats on the backseat. 

He did, however, go out that night. They tailed him to an abandoned hospital, where he was greeted by a group of five other teenagers. They went inside, flashlights bobbing along the ground and past cracked dirt-stained windows, and Emma rolled her eyes. 

“I swear you’d think kids these days had never watched a horror film.” She said as they got out of the car and stretched. “Ooh, look at the moon.”

They looked up into the clear night sky, where the moon was hanging low, gigantic and completely full. They stared for a while, transfixed, until Dean came to his senses and went to the trunk for his machete and flashlight. There was a howl in the distance and he and Sam exchanged a look.

“Silver bullets?” Sam said. They loaded up and went after the kids. It didn’t take long to find them; they were playing music and laughing raucously. 

“Alright, everybody out!” Dean commanded loudly, shining his flashlight around their faces.

“Who the hell are you?” A girl asked from the back of the room. He pointed his flashlight directly at her. 

“Police is who the hell I am.” He replied brusquely. One of them shone their light at him, and he squinted against the glare. The kid they’d been following recognised him from the library and stood up.

“C’mon guys, let’s do what he says. He is a cop.” They groaned and began getting up.

“That’s it, go on.” He said as they filed past him. There was another howl, and it sounded much closer. Emma looked at Sam with wide eyes. That was definitely a werewolf.

“Okay, everyone get to your cars right now! Go straight home!” Sam bellowed. A few of them shrieked and they all started running. They followed them out and watched as the teenagers scrambled into their cars and sped off. 

“I thought this case was just a vamp?!” She said, pulling her gun from its holster and checking the chamber.

“It was!” Sam said, backing towards the corridor as another howl rended the darkness directly ahead of them. 

“Fuck!” Dean said, shooting as a shadow moved out of the trees across from them. It lurched to the side, circling around. 

“Okay, inside, we’ll get it in the hall.” Sam said, backing up further, eyes searching the darkness over his shoulder.

She could smell them again; her mouth was watering. She made herself focus. This wasn’t about feeding. The kid and his friends came here every weekend, she'd learned, and she knew they'd come if they thought he was in trouble. The werewolf she hadn’t planned for, but she figured at least they were distracted. It would make her job easier. She skulked through the shadows of the hospital, using their scents as a guide.

Emma went ahead, sweeping a room with her flashlight and beckoning the guys in. There was only one door, and it was along the inner wall so the light from the moon streamed in from the corridor and there were no windows. It was perfect for an ambush. They waited, the sounds of their breathing loud in the silence. There was a minute pad of bare feet on concrete and they all lifted their weapons, ready for the pounce. The werewolf threw itself into the room in a blur of dark fury, knocking Sam and Emma aside and heading straight for Dean. He stepped deftly backwards, shooting the guy twice in quick succession and he skidded, smashing his head off two tables before coming to a halt half a foot from Dean’s boots.

The gunshots were loud enough in the small room that they didn’t hear her quiet steps, still half-deaf from the resounding ringing in their ears. Dean was grinning as Emma and Sam picked themselves up. A bright pillar of silver moonlight was coming through the door behind her, brightening the room. He stepped forwards, about to ask if they were alright, and nearly didn’t register it when the tip of the machete punched through Emma’s stomach.

“Oh.” She said, hands coming up to touch the blade, but it was gone, leaving a round stain, black in the low light, spreading quickly across her stomach. She furrowed her brow, looking at Dean questioningly before her legs gave way and she slumped forwards. He caught her, hands under her arms. 

“No.” He said, lowering her to the ground.

Sam yelled in shock and shot automatically at the vampire, who took the bullet in her arm without flinching. “That’s for my daddy, bitch.” She threw her head back, howling with glee, and was still laughing when Sam swung at her wildly and took off her head. He looked back to his brother on the floor with wide eyes and knelt with them to check her pulse. It was weak, but still there.

“No.” Dean said again, as she coughed and a fleck of blood appeared on her cheek. He brushed it away quickly.

“Emma?” Sam said urgently, fingers fumbling for his cell phone. “Emma, can you hear me?”

It took a second before his voice registered and she looked up at him. “Hi, Moose.” Sam choked a laugh. 

“Hey, you.” He replied, voice thick. She smiled slowly. It felt like she was stuck in molasses, everything was taking so long. She tried to lift a hand to the ache in her stomach but nothing happened. 

“Cas. Cas?” Dean muttered. “We need Cas. He can fix this. Cas!” He looked around. “Cas, get down here! We need you!” 

There was no way this was happening, Sam thought frantically. His fingers felt frozen as he managed to finally get hold of his cell and tried to dial 911. The phone was dead. He dropped it in disgust and looked helplessly at his brother, who was still muttering Cas’ name.

“Castiel!” Dean’s voice lifted in volume again. “Cas, please.” His voice broke and he looked down at her face. She was watching him sadly, tears welling in her eyes for what seemed like an eternity before one fell. He wiped that away too with shaking hands. “Don’t cry. It’s gonna be okay.”

Castiel heard Dean’s prayer. He had been in Egypt, and had just burned the eyes out of another lying demon when he called. He felt his pain, a horrible agonising wrenching in his chest, and searched for him, orders forgotten. He was almost there, he glimpsed the room, saw the three huddled on the ground in the dark, smelled the blood, even. And then everything was white, he was bound to a chair and Naomi was looming over him.

“No!” He growled angrily, struggling against his bonds. “They need me.”

“Castiel, I told you.” She said, smiling. “No Winchesters.” 

“It’s the girl, she’s going to die if I don’t-“ 

“The girl is of no consequence. What matters here is that you are disobeying a direct order, yet again.” She said firmly. She sighed. “Castiel, I didn’t want to have to do this. You need to be completely re-educated.” She leant over him, her instrument buzzing. He screamed until he thought his throat would surely rip in half as she pressed it into his eye socket, blinding white-hot pain radiating through every atom of him.

Back in the darkness of the abandoned hospital, Emma’s breath was hitching. Dean was pressing his hand to the wound on her stomach but he could feel that his jeans were soaked through with blood, and he could hear every splash as it dripped out of her onto the ground.

“I’m sorry.” She managed to get out. 

“Sorry for what?” He asked. 

‘For everything’, she wanted to say, but couldn’t. For saying I’d stay, and leaving like this. For not telling you Cas was in trouble. For bleeding on your favourite jeans. She almost laughed at that, but she didn’t have the energy. She gripped his hand feebly and he kissed her fingers, not caring that both of their hands were coated in blood. She reached for Sam with her other hand and saw he was crying when he took it in his own. She wanted to tell him not to do that, but her throat was closed. She couldn’t even open her mouth, every part of her felt heavy and numb.

They watched her eyes flutter closed and her chest rise and fall, and when it didn’t rise again Dean wanted to scream, but he just knelt there, staring down at her with his jaw set. Sam scrubbed at his face with both hands and looked at his brother for a long time.

She stood up shakily, stepping away, and looked down at herself with a sense of déjà vu. Who knew that seeing the shifter like that would have been so prophetic? The boys were still kneeling next to her body and she moved closer. She tried to touch Sam’s hair but her fingers slid through it and nearly into his head, which made her feel extremely strange so she just squatted down and looked at them instead. Sam still had tears sliding down his face, though he was wiping them away as fast as they were appearing. She watched him sorrowfully for a minute, then remembered she’d called him Moose with one of her last dying breaths and barked a laugh that sounded strangely muffled in the ether. She moved closer to examine Dean, eyes greedily trying to memorise the exact colour of his eyes, the shape of his nose, every last freckle of his face.

When she finally tore her gaze away and straightened up, a slim pretty woman with a dark bob was standing watching her.

“You’re my reaper, right?” Emma asked her. 

She nodded. “I have to say, it’s nice to see those two on the right side of the veil.” 

Emma laughed. “So you’re the one who’s had to put up with their shit all those times.” She looked down at the Winchesters and grinned. She threw her arms out. “Oh fuck me, I can’t believe I just died. I’m never going to find out how Breaking Bad ends.”

The reaper smiled at her sadly. “I’m sorry, but we have to go.” She held out a hand, and Emma took it, looking over her shoulder at the brothers as she went.


	11. Epilogue

The next morning they gave her a hunter’s funeral in a clearing in the woods near the bunker, having spent all night making sure to put all of her possessions in with the pyre, just in case. The machete the vampire had used went into the fire too. Dean knew it has been his; the one he couldn't yank out. He'd loved that fucking thing, but he watched it blacken with a fierce sense of relief.

When they got back, Dean didn’t leave his room for two days straight. He sat and drank and slept in fits and starts, waking to her whispering his name, only to realise it was the remnant of a dream. It had to be, since she was gone. He didn’t cry, but every part of him ached. It had been stupid, to get so close, and the pain of the loss warred with the anger at himself for letting her in. 

He cursed himself for not being able to stop it, he cursed Castiel for not coming when he called, and he cursed her for dying. He drank until his face felt numb and carried on drinking until it spread through the rest of him and he could sleep again.

When he finally emerged, he was dragging his mattress and bedding out of his room. It was old, he told himself stubbornly, but in truth he couldn’t stand that her scent was still all over it. He pulled it all the way down the hall and shoved it into an empty room, making a mental note to go buy a new one. 

He went for a shower, angrily willing away the memories that threatened to surface as he stepped under the hot water. He scrubbed himself until his skin was pink and raw, dressed in clean clothes and went out to the main room. Sam sat in stunned silence for a moment when Dean set a beer down next to him and walked across the room to rummage in a bag of doughnuts he had brought back this morning, acting for all the world as if nothing had happened. 

“Hi.” He said, tentatively.

Dean nodded in response, taking a huge bite.

There was a pause. “Do you want to talk?”

Dean shook his head and took a swallow of beer. Maybe he wasn’t ready to face Sam yet; he was looking at him with that earnest, concerned look on his face that he hated so much. He tried to remember what Frank had said to him. Just fucking fake it, right? And get on with the damn job, as ever. He made himself smile at his brother. “Any news from our favourite prophet?” He asked, ambling around the table.

Sam shook his head. “Not yet, haven’t checked in with him for a few days.”

“Call him, would you?” Dean said, grabbing another doughnut and making his way back down the hall. He cast an eye over the walls, where a few swords and plaques were hanging. Maybe he’d decorate his room after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I hereby officially dedicate this fic to my favourite Sam. You'll always be the Cas to my Dean, the Samwise to my Frodo. Love you, you shit. But just look what you made me do. 
> 
> I tried to keep this as canon as I could, though of course there may be some discrepancies. This is my first fic in like, five years, and I did originally set out to keep this to myself, but it got way too long to justify that. Con-crit very welcome.


End file.
